


Chase Me, Fashionista

by chibixkadaj



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alice in Wonderland References, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Brief mentions of body image concerns and issues, Brief references to disordered eating, Dating Sim Style, M/M, Multiple Endings, Otome Game, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 87,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibixkadaj/pseuds/chibixkadaj
Summary: Taeyong's trip into the city takes a turn into madness thanks to an unbelievable proposal and a group of guys too gorgeous to pass up.Ready to fall down the rabbit hole with him?🐇Taeyong x Many boys || Fashion Model AU || Alice in Wonderland referenced || Otome Game inspired (pairings in End Notes)
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Lee Taeyong, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Lee Taeyong & Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten, Lee Taeyong/Nakamoto Yuta, Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 11
Kudos: 103





	1. The March Hare

> "A formerly miserable Alice drowned in a sea of tears, and lost at the survival game where personalities intermixed and clashed. As he tumbled into the burrow, from the other side the white rabbit smirked and said ['...Chase me, Fashionista.'"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dtx3J4ZuqZo)

🐇

_"City Center. The next and last stop will be City Center. Please be careful stepping off of the bus. Please check for all of your belongings. Thank you for riding with us today. We look forward to aiding in your next trip."_

Taeyong let out a soft snore, snoozing gently until the jolt of a sharp stop jolted his body awake. “Nnn!” He gasped, sniffing hard in his shock--nearly choking on his own saliva from snoring but he wouldn’t admit it--before his body settled back into the stiff bus chair. Its coarse fabric tickled the small amount of exposed skin peeking out between his lavender beanie and his black turtleneck and he didn’t love that. Taeyong was sensitive inside and out, the wrong things made him feel... well, wrong. Certain fabrics rubbed him, literally, the wrong way. Since he was a young child his taste in clothing was defined by what he could and wouldn’t wear. Eventually it set the tone for what would eventually become the path for his whole life. Fashion for him shifted from necessity to nuanced, a whole world he could explore--navigating from the homespun stores of his tiny town, to thrift stores, and eventually, sometimes, the internet. Though he mostly used that for accessories. Taeyong needed to be tactile with his purchases. He’d been burned too many times from online shopping. 

It was difficult. Left him feeling a little... :( 

But that wasn’t the point, though it was why he sat awkwardly in this cramped seat next to a man who smelled strongly of seawater and shrimp. Taeyong shifted a little bit, hoping that pressing his head against the cold glass of the window would alleviate some of the tension in his neck (instead it just added more to his shoulders) and maybe soothe some of the sleepiness he still felt behind his eye. They only had five minutes, though, so another nap would be a bad idea. Taeyong sighed, sitting upright once more. He pushed his round framed glasses up the bridge of his nose and opted this time to look out of the window instead of willing it to be his pillow. 

He’d missed the view of the skyline and was stuck watching the first two or three levels of buildings as they passed by, noting restaurants that looked tasty and shops he wanted to poke his head into. He probably would never find them again, even if he snapped photos with his phone to remind himself later. His stomach growled in longing and Taeyong draped his arm across ii as if that could soothe the fact that his last meal was many hours earlier. He’d find something by his hostel, surely. This was the Big City after all, it had to have everything-- that’s what all the movies, songs, and stories said.

The bus slowed to a steady stop, but with it came an increase in Taeyong’s heartbeat. He didn’t mean to be nervous. He didn’t _want_ to be nervous. He didn’t have any super set plans for his trip for that very reason. Nothing much to worry about, no companions to risk letting him down. He was here to take in the sights, explore opportunities for internships, and, more than anything, shop. He’d booked four weeks just for this, saving down to the last coin between his two part time jobs at the boutique and the convenience store; and of course every single holiday packet he received as well. 

In a few weeks, near the tail end of his stay, was the World Wonders Fashion Show-- the largest and most prestigious competition in its industry. A week long event, WWFS brought everyone from high end designers to indie seamstresses. The models that walked their runway were some of the best in the world, including the crowned king of clothing known simply as Ten. The nearer WWFS grew the more people whispered and wondered if Ten would stay on top with Red Queen Collective behind him or would someone succeed in overthrowing their rule? No one knew for sure, but the young Thai boy had a hold on the title since he first stepped onto the scene two years ago and was very vocal about his plans to hold onto it. To see Ten with his own eyes...Taeyong shivered at the thought. What a privilege. What a privilege it would be to see any of this live. He hoped, like so many others who inevitably lingered in the streets circling WWFS' venue, that his looks would be enough to earn him one of the coveted compensated tickets. The duffle at his feet was filled with all of his best things and though Taeyong was pretty prone to self-doubt he knew he could rely on his tastes in looks. It was his biggest asset, his best strength.

Taeyong hoisted it onto his shoulder and then stretched, quickly realizing he should’ve done that the other way around. His neck cracked--ow!--and then he was being shuffled off the bus after a quick tap around all his pockets for his essentials. Phone, charger, wallet, the accessories he didn’t want to lose in his sleep, glasses (well, though they hadn’t left his face). Okay, all set! He stepped off the bus.

And right into a puddle.

Taeyong winced as water splashed up to just beneath his knees. His favorite jeans… they’d be fine, but did the hostel have a washer and dryer? Taeyong didn’t remember. Plus he couldn’t go there just yet anyway. Shoot… Where could he go looking like a walking half-mud monster? He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and stepped with uncertainty onto the sidewalk. A quick glance up to the sky told him that while it wasn’t raining right now, it could start soon. He didn’t bring an umbrella and if these puddles were any indication he would need one as soon as possible. 

But it was the Big City so that shouldn’t be hard, right? Umbrellas could be anywhere--hopefully they were _everywhere._ That was the optimism Taeyong tried to embrace while going on his little hunt. 

“None of these are cute,” Taeyong couldn’t help but pout, looking over the only selection he found nearby. They were either garishly polka dotted or plain black. Back home even his umbrella was cute--a clear bubble with a strip of purple around the rim. Somewhere in the world there had to be a middle ground between these types. Just...not in this convenience store it seemed.

The weather continued on this way for days into his trip, adding physical rain onto his parade of rejections. Taeyong jumped from company to company, scraping together his hopes as glass door after glass door shut in his face. 

He knew it wouldn’t be easy coming to the city with big dreams and a sketchbook, no real resume in sight. The credentials he lacked were catching up to him. 

“It’s a game of survival,” the boutique owner, his supervisor and mentor, had shared with him ahead of his trip. “It’s not easy out there so keep your head high and do your best. If you have to come back just know that we’re always ready to welcome you home. And,” she’d smiled and placed her hand on his shoulder, “you can always try again.”

But Taeyong was determined to make it _now._ Even if the last indie brand on his list turned him away, he’d do his damndest to make it somewhere. But when they did, when the receptionist returned with his design samples, a sad smile on his lips as he shook his head a quiet ‘no,’ he suddenly found it hard to hope any further. 

He’d done all of this first to either give him time to get settled in a new position or get past his disappointment early and try to enjoy the rest of his trip. He just hadn’t _actually_ prepared for the latter.

Dejected, he hung his head low in the elevator ride down. Slow steps took Taeyong from the doorway back out onto damp streets. He wasn’t even bothered to ready his umbrella at his side. “Let it rain,” for all he cared. What would it matter anyway? He had no one left in this city he could think to impress, and now he was feeling the guilt of all the money he’d spent to get here. He needed to hard pivot his attention somewhere else to at least the most of his stay. For now, even if it meant rubbing salt into recent wounds, he decided to take a stroll down Fashion Ave. 

Taeyong was searching out inspiration, whether that was for his art or his career he didn’t know, but he hoped something would guide him the right way. And when dark eyes spotted the familiar silhouettes of a designer he knew better than the back of his hands he took off at a run for a closer look.

White Rabbit’s teaser collection was amazing. From the lace embellishments to the details of the star shaped, onyx buttons, there was no rivaling his work. Taeyong stood at the window and just stared longingly. The young (or assumed to be) designer had Taeyong in awe. He only appeared on the scene maybe a year or so ago but his works became a preference not only for Red Queen Collective but some of Ten’s personal picks for his runway walks. Only a few interviews had been conducted with him, nothing by face, leaving his identity known only for a rabbit silhouette with a bowtie and tiny tophat. “So cute,” Taeyong thought when he first saw it and was thinking now, too, his fingers trailing over the White Rabbit’s moniker sitting behind its shield of window glass. Taeyong wanted to be like him. He wanted the freedom to play with fabrics, cuts, and styles in the same ways. These looks, they were like the images in his dreams. They were the ones that populated the sketchbooks of his youth, sometimes even down to the tiny details like chain link accessories. 

He shook his head slowly. _”Chase me, Fashionistas!”_ The poster boasted in the corner, beckong readers to enter into Red Queen Collective’s youth design contest. Winning designs were to be crafted by some of the best behind the company and whispered a chance of maybe, potentially, were the stars to align and the design to be that good, being featured on the catwalk directly. Taeyong would’ve loved to enter but it ended before he even had the chance to start. He could hope for next year, but even then he was pushing the age cap by a year already. “It’s okay,” he told himself now just like he did every night he struggled with his hopes for the future and his identity now. “There’ll be another chance.” 

Though the companies he tried to speak to on this trip hadn’t come through, there’ll be something. Taeyong’s head hund a little bit, glasses slipping down his nose. He sniffed--that did nothing to fix their positioning--and swallowed hard. He was in the presence of pure beauty; of _real clothes_ designed by none other than his current favorite designer. His idol! He couldn’t be sad while standing here.

And he wouldn’t be! Taeyong inhaled sharply, gritting his teeth to swallow back the last of the tears that almost (but didn’t, an important distinction!) fell. “You can do this,” he whispered again. He still had time left in this city. One hand peeled away from the window, yanking his signature beanie from his head so that the other could fluff up his bright blue hair. Catching himself in the window’s reflection, he felt invigorated with new confidence. He looked _good._ His hair color popped from his fresh dye job and his glasses flamed his face well, their silver color also matching the earrings that dangled with thin chains down almost to his shoulder. The pink belt contrasted the black of his jeans, ripped at the knees, and the loose shirt tucked into them. It hung down to his thighs just enough that the metallic end sometimes chilled the skin through the rips. Silver combat boots completed the look. All in all, he was proud of it. He was proud of how he dressed. It may not be as embellished or old style as White Rabbit, but he looked as nice as the people around him, if not better. Yeah. He had this! He looked great!

“You look nice.” A voice behind him confirmed. At first Taeyong thought it was his own but when it registered that it wasn’t he jumped.

“Huh?” Taeyong spun on the heel of his boot, meeting eye to eye a man who stood a bit taller than himself. Although colored hair was pretty normal here--and Taeyong had also boasted a rainbow of hair colors from the second he graduated high school and was allowed to experiment with it--he was still caught off by how blonde this other man was. Of course the next thing noticed was how well he dressed: a tailored pinstripe suit colored a deep violet, a sky blue tie that connected to both lapels with a delicate silver chain dripping between two crystal encrusted cross pendants. There were holes in his ears at least a centimeter across and dangling from the center were earrings in the shape of cards--the only jewelry to be found--and then, well, the black shoes were a little typical and much more boring than the rest of the fit but Taeyong wouldn’t knock him for it. Pouty lips gave the man a youthful feel but there was something hidden in his dark eyes that told Taeyong he was either wise beyond his years or sly as a fox. Taeyong wondered if he should watch out for whatever he would say next. 

The mystery man reached into his pocket and fished out a pair of red rimmed glasses. He looped the hanging chain over his head and around his neck before perching them on the bridge of his nose. All at once his expression lit up, a grin spread across those innocent lips and his eyes creased with the smile. “I was right,” he exclaimed, prompting Taeyong’s head to tilt.

“Right? About?”

“You! You do indeed look nice,” he took a step forward. “May I get a closer look?”

“Closer look? At...Me?” 

“Who else? I’ve already exhausted myself with those old designs. There’s not much else to see otherwise.”

“Old?!” Taeyong’s face fell, brows pinching and lips pursing into something angry with his bottom lip jutting out. “How can you call White Rabbit’s stuff old?! It’s refreshing, innovative even, there’s nothing like it out in the world right now.” 

The stranger, taken aback though he had moved even closer to Taeyong, blinked wide before bursting into a loud fit of laughter. He had to take his glasses off at one point, dabbing the back of his index finger underneath his eye to catch the tears that had started to form. 

“Wh-what’s so funny?” Torn between feeling indignant and confused (and maybe a little scared) Taeyong tried to straighten his posture a touch more, give himself more height, and stand whatever ground he could against the other man. 

“I’ve never seen someone care so much for the little bunny’s work. It’s cute. I’m sure he’d be honored. That and--”

“Never? How?! He’s one of the most sought out designers of our time. His works dominate runways and--” Oh shoot he was rambling, he needed to calm down. “And, ahem, I mean, _and_ you were saying?”

Chuckling from being cut off, the stranger continued on. “ _And_ clearly you’ve never seen Mad Hatter’s work.”

“Uh?”

“Caterpillar and Co.? Ever heard of us?”

_U-us?!_ Oh no. Taeyong didn’t like that. Did that mean that he’d been talking back to a member of their collective? Caterpillar and Co. were Red Queen’s biggest rivals. _Of course_ Taeyong had heard of them. How could he not? He tried not to choke on the spit he’d inhaled in his shock, teeth sinking into his bottom lip instead. “I have, of course. You’re,” oh God, Taeyong felt so stupid, “you’re one of the biggest design firms out there. I’d be stupid not to.”

“Not stupid,” the stranger corrected. “Cute though. Look at how flustered you got!”

There were a lot of thoughts floating around Taeyong’s head now; a lot of ways he could maybe patch things up, save his pride. But he threw all those away and instead said, “P-please don’t patronize me. I didn’t mean to, honestly. I know you, and I know the Mad Hatter, just not by that name, and just...” His voice trailed off. 

“Yah, yah,” the stranger waved his hand flippantly. “I’m just teasing. It’s part of the industry I guess. Or, well, at least our part of it. We try not to take things too seriously when we don’t have to. Trust me, I think you’re quite fun.”

“Somehow I can’t tell if that’s good or not,” Taeyong murmured under his breath. 

“It’s good.” The stranger smiled and Taeyong hadn’t realized it but he was practically upon him. He didn’t tower over him exactly but Taeyong was feeling pretty small in that moment so this man might as well be a giant. He glanced up with raised brows.

But the blonde wasn’t looking at his eyes anymore. His own gaze trailed over the lines of Taeyong’s clothes, the way he was cinched at his waist, how the seams draped over his shoulders. A hand rose, index finger tapping against his lips while he hummed softly. When he got to the boots his nose scrunched a little bit. “Not bad. Where’d you get most of this?” 

“I, uh, made it actually. Well, just the shirt. The pants are from a boutique back home. Rest from resale on the internet.”

“Not bad, not bad.” He took a step back to give Taeyong some space. “You made the top? Do you have an interest in designing?”

“A little bit.” Damn, what a time to lie.

“No wonder you admire that bunny,” the man chuckled again. “What about modeling? Have you ever thought about that?”

“Ehh?!” Taeyong’s hand clasped over his lips, voice pitching higher than he’d heard it since puberty (and cracking too, oof). “Modeling?”

“Yeah. You have the body for it. And those eyes. I bet if we spruced up your make up a bit more we could have you strutting down the catwalk in no time.”

“That’s,” Taeyong pushed some of his hair behind his ears, another one of his many nervous habits. “Uh, that’s really nice of you to say. But I don’t even know where to go to model, let alone how to start.”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it. You’re in luck.”

That seemed hard to believe given how the rest of his time in this city had been going. That’s why Taeyong, dumbstruck, repeated, “Luck?”

“Indeed, luck!” The man laughed again. His hand slipped into his back pocket to pull out a sleek looking card case. It glistened in the setting sunlight and when caught correctly reflected the etching of none other than Caterpillar and Co’s logo. 

_He really wasn’t lying…_

“My card.”

Taeyong took it with both hands and a bow of his head. ‘Dong Sicheng. aka March Hare,’ it read above a phone number and an email. With the business card now out of his grasp the other left his empty hand hanging between them. “What’s your name?”

Taeyong took it slowly. “Lee Taeyong.”

“Lee Taeyong, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too, D-dong Sicheng.” 

Sicheng’s smile softened before a vibration coming from his wrist tore his attention away. His watch was buzzing with enough messages that even Taeyong couldn’t resist the temptation to glance over. “I must be on my way. I think we could have a lot of fun together so do reach out to me in the next few days and we can set up a consultation or something?”

“O-okay.”

“Wonderful, I look forward to seeing you soon!”

Taeyong watched, startled, as a long black car rolled up behind Sicheng, seemingly summoned by a few taps at his watch. The blonde waved back at him, and then in a whoosh of air he was out of sight again.

Taeyong took a second to breathe, to process, to stare down at the card still in his hand and remind himself that that, indeed, had happened. His free hand traced over the silver details inlaid in the red, and black and white checkered card. It couldn’t be real. Caterpillar and Co. was one of the top fashion collectives in the country. They were too good to even make it onto Taeyong’s ‘give it a try’ list. 

It had to be real. The card had weight to it. It bent with the push of his fingers and more than that when he blinked it didn’t disappear into thin air. It said Sicheng’s name on it and Sicheng was the man who spoke to him. It listed everything Sicheng referenced. 

It really was real.

Taeyong glanced back at the White Rabbit designs that had beckoned him to this street corner in the first place and for the first time since stepping off the bus found himself with a wide smile on his face. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, other hand making sure the business card was secured in his back pocket. “‘Chase me, Fashionistas,’” He read under his breath. “Maybe I will.” Maybe he could now.

That night Taeyong sat up in his top bunk bed, headphones stuffed in his ears with his favorite song to drown out the deep roaring snores from his hostel roommates. He couldn’t sleep with all this eagerness and anxiety swirling around his stomach. He was looking at Sicheng’s card again, wondering, _‘Would he really be just a text message, phone call, or email away?’_ Since he was young Taeyong didn’t like phone calls. Emailing could work but it seemed almost too professional and bore the risk of going unread for days (and Taeyong was on a bit of a time limit). Texting raised its own set of oddities, toeing the line between personal and professional that Taeyong wasn’t sure he could cross, let alone walk. Their interaction had been so weird, though, and Sicheng said he wanted Taeyong to contact him so… texting it would be.

First thing that next morning, when the sun hit his face and pulled him from his few hours of sleep, Taeyong rolled over and fulfilled his promise to himself. 

‘Hey, this is Lee Taeyong!’ -- No, erase that exclamation mark, that seemed too eager -- _Hey, this is Lee Taeyong from yesterday. I was wondering if we might be able to meet today? I’d love to hear more about your offer and company._

He slammed his phone screen down onto the mattress and rolled over. Staring in wait would be bad for his health, maybe he could sleep more instead. 

The phone buzzed before his eyes even shut.

_Happy to hear from you, Taeyong!_ Oh, an exclamation point. Guess Taeyong could use those now. _We wouldn’t be able to tour the office until later in the afternoon but I’d be happy to meet for lunch beforehand and get to know more about you. I’ll swing around with my car if you’re comfortable with it. Where’s your apartment?_

_Oh, I’m actually only visiting the city so I’m staying at this hostel._

_Really? That’s even better! I’ll show you some spots around the city before we head to the studio. What do you say?_

What did he say? It seemed like a strange cocktail of too good to be true and a little weird all in one go. But he wanted this. _Fuck,_ he wanted this so badly. Just a chance to step past the doors of Caterpillar and Co. was an opportunity he’d be stupid to miss, even if it became nothing more.

_Sounds good to me! I really appreciate it, Mr. Dong Sicheng. What time can I expect you?_

_How does noon sound?_

_Great._ Oh God this was happening so fast. Taeyong’s heart was pounding in his chest. _I’ll see you then. :)_

Taeyong stared at his phone long enough that the alarm he’d snoozed prior traipsed across his phone screen yet again. Out of habit, Taeyong hit the button once more though he knew that even if he wanted to sleep again it’d be impossible now. He was so nervous--well, no, he was excited but he was also exceptionally anxious. He didn’t know how, after everything that had passed between them yesterday, the other man still wanted to engage with him. Taeyong felt far too young and immature despite his 25 years on this planet (and when he searched Sicheng up online and learned that he was 24 it made him feel far worse about it considering how suave and mature the man seemed). Yesterday was far from one of his best days, too, which just made him even more critical of his performance during their exchange.

“But he _wants_ to see you again, Taeyong,” he whispered to himself. “That should mean something too.” And indeed, the text messages freshly exchanged on his phone confirmed that. Taeyong rolled onto his back just to stare at the ceiling, blinking up at chipping paint and lingering cobwebs. Dong Sicheng of Caterpillar and Co. wanted to meet him. Still seemed so surreal.

He needed a good outfit-- no, he needed his _best_ outfit and he prayed that it wasn’t what he wore the other day. Eventually Taeyong found the courage to climb from the bunk bed and onto shaky legs down the purple colored ladder. heading to the locker where he kept his stuff. The key stayed secure on a silicon keychain worn around his ankle though it also forced Taeyong to contort a little awkwardly, raising his leg until it was just about at his waist and parallel to the ground simply so he could pull it off. He guessed he could bend over and slip it off but...eh. His other method did the job fine and he was already freeing his possessions from their lockered prison. 

His duffle bag fell to the ground with a loud thud. Thankfully, Taeyong’s roommates had all already gone on their way and the bunk beneath his hadn’t met an occupant yet, so he set to work unpacking every item he brought and laying it out nicely in as many outfit arrangements as he could manage. “That’s too clubby,” Taeyong huffed, throwing a black mesh top back onto his bag. “Why did I even pack that?” For a night out, duh. Or maybe for his WWFS look. But not for this. He didn’t really have anything that felt like it could match a man who walked the city streets in a nicely pressed suit. All of his pants were made of either polyester or denim and he stuck mostly to oversized tops to hide his small frame (unless he chose to enhance it with a belt). “Oh!” he exclaimed, hand falling on top of a singular black button down that had somehow made it in--probably thanks to his mother. “This will work!” He tossed it towards the pillow and christened that section the ‘keep pile.’

With a shirt like that he’d need at least his finest pair of jeans--or, as he discovered them at the bottom of his pile, a nice pair of cotton pants with a tying elastic waist that flare at his ankles. He’d try both, see what went better with the shirt and the slightly larger than needed white sweater he’d throw on top of it all. The jeans meant he could wear his belt and he always liked adding that in but in the end he went with his other choice. The silhouette of the sweater and the cut of the pants flowed nicely with each other, made him seem a little more unique than any old oversized sweater and tightly fitting jeans. Plus he liked how the hem of his undershirt poked out and rested over just near the front pockets. 

It was too bad Taeyong didn’t have much to accessorize the look with. Other than his signature rings and earrings he didn’t feel like much else would work. The collar was too high for necklaces and he didn’t have a choker. Maybe he could run to some store and find it but-- “Oh shoot!” Sicheng (and his car) would be swinging by in about 25 minutes and Taeyong feared leaving and coming back might cut it too close. He raised a hand to his throat, rubbing gently at the spot where a choker would fall, lamenting just the slightest bit. 

Then he decided he could get it after. As a reward for taking this risk (and/or maybe as a pick-me-up if he were to look like a mess in front of Sicheng for the second day in a row).

The hostel served breakfast but by the time Taeyong made it down to the lobby everything had been served, eaten, and cleaned up. Though his stomach growled at him for his neglect, he decided to busy himself with actually exploring all of the amenities the hostel’s website had boasted that Taeyong didn’t care to look at before. Two game tables hovered towards the left of the room, one foosball table and one pool table which led Taeyong’s gaze to the cues hanging on the wall. Next to them was a vending machine. Perfect! Though he guessed that candy wasn’t an optimal first meal of the day he went with it anyway. With his snack secure, he took his place on one of the cushions of a couch arranged in a square probably for optimal conversing. Fortunately, for Taeyong, he was all alone so he leaned back and stretched out his legs, peeling back the wrapper of his breakfast and taking a bite. It could only be minutes before Sicheng texted with his arrival, hopefully. And if it was any longer Taeyong might finally succumb to the pressure and back out.

Maybe Sicheng could sense his flightiness because only when those thoughts started to take root in the back of his brain did his phone buzz again. 

_I believe we’re outside! Look for a black car with XIV9405 as the license plate. If you don’t see us let me know._

Taeyong swallowed his fear and tried to lick over some of the dryness that had formed on his lips. 

_Will do!_ He typed out but his feet hadn’t quite found their way to holding him upright again. With his phone in both hands Taeyong let it weigh down his body just a bit between both legs. He needed to do this. Bare minimum, he needed to try and take whatever this opportunity was, even if it just meant a coffee and a walking tour of the city. 

_You regret 100% of the choices you don’t take,_ was a mantra of sorts for Taeyong had taken on over the last new months; coming in handy when committing to this trip in the first place. Wouldn’t it be a waste, then, to give up the closest thing he had to working with a big brand? The answer was yes. Taeyong’s heart had been made up, it was just his brain that needed to do the rest of it.

Not too long after fighting his own internal battle Taeyong did indeed peel himself from the faux leather couch. He stood and stretched, dipping his ear towards his shoulder, alternating sides until one cracked. “Okay,” just one more whispered pep talk to himself. “Let’s get it.” 

Sicheng stood outside the car, catching Taeyong’s attention with a wave as soon as he pushed through the revolving door. 

“Thanks for meeting me,” he smiled, opening the door for him. As Taeyong slid to the opposite end of the car he thought on two things: one, had Sicheng’s voice always been that soft _and_ that deep? Two, why was this car so spacious? Taeyong stretched out his legs and they only barely tapped the seat in front of him. Figures Caterpillar and Co. would have money but it shocked him to think they’d spend any of it on him. 

The click of the door closing pulled Taeyong back from his thoughts. Sicheng slipping in next to him called his attention and then he bowed his head in reply. 

“Thank you for asking me out. I actually haven’t had too much time to walk around so it’s pretty exciting to have a local tour guide.”

Sicheng’s brows rose until they were hidden behind his bangs. “You haven’t yet? How long have you been here?”

“About,” Taeyong paused to count on his fingers, gaze straying up to the car’s ceiling. The car started on its way. “Five days?”

“What have you been doing in that time then?”

“Ah, I’m a little embarrassed to mention it.” It wasn’t like Taeyong to be so direct in his answers but it didn’t feel right to lie either. He brought his hand to the back of his neck and rubbed, like that could get some of the embarrassment out of the color of his cheeks. “I was trying to apply to some smaller fashion companies.” 

“Oh really?” Sicheng’s voice pitched upward with intrigue. “Like?”

Taeyong pursed his lips. Logically, being rejected by other collectives shouldn’t mean that Sicheng would turn around and kick Taeyong out of this car. But it _could_ make him second guess Taeyong if this meeting were to go anywhere work related, color his impression of Taeyong’s work should he share it. He still needed to answer though. He shifted slightly, adjusting his hold on the satchel that guarded his sketchbook and folder of resumes.

“Joker Designs, Chipped Tea Cup, Eight of Clubs Collective, and Hookah.”

“Tch,” whether the sound was snarky or humored Taeyong didn’t know but right after Sicheng was laughing. “Don’t worry about them. In fact, don’t even waste your time with them. They’re all cookie cutter clothes makers, they wouldn’t know art if it bit them in the butt.”

Taeyong balked. W-what was he supposed to make of that? ‘Don’t worry about them?’ But they turned him away. If he wasn’t good enough for them, _how_ could he be good for anyone else? Sicheng must have been a mind reader (or maybe Taeyong’s emotions were easily scrawled across his face) because he brought his hand to Taeyong’s shoulder and shook his head gently. “They don’t know what creativity looks like because they’re too busy trying to beat out the top dogs. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to work with them. Besides,” he drew his hand back and placed it into his lap, “They don’t like White Rabbit’s designs so you would’ve hated it there.”

Taeyong huffed and folded his arms across his chest. “You didn’t like White Rabbit’s designs either.”

“Not true! I’m just tired of his old collection. They’re always on display everywhere for too long, waiting until he drops something new but who knows when that’ll be. He’s always late on his work,” Sicheng shook his head and tsk’d under his breath. “Always late, always late.”

“...I can’t tell if you like him or not.”

Sicheng just shrugged, taking his eyes from Taeyong and craning his neck over the headrest of the passenger’s seat to see their location. Taeyong wondered why he didn’t peer out the tinted windows instead.

“Ah, we’re almost there. Have you eaten?”

“Not much,” Taeyong replied. It wasn’t a complete lie!

“Me neither,” Sicheng smiled, fussing with his seatbelt so that it’s off before the car fully stopped along the side of the road. “That’s great for both of us, this cafe has great egg sandwiches.” Taeyong’s stomach growled out a reply before his mouth could form words. Sicheng bursts out into a single laugh. “You’ll love them, I promise.”

And sure enough, Taeyong did. He had to work hard in order to not stuff half of the thing into his face but he was taking quick bites in the time that Sicheng was away collecting their drinks. He insisted on paying and when Taeyong tried protesting merely said it was on the company. 

“They can expense it.” 

Taeyong didn’t know what that meant.

“One matcha latte for you,” the green drink was set before him with steam so strong Taeyong’s glasses fogged up when he leaned forward to smell it. Sicheng held his own iced coffee between both hands, leaning back in his chair so that his left ankle could rest on top of his right thigh. His meal was cooling on the table between them. “How do you like it?”

Taeyong, using his brain this time, was smarter than to talk with his mouthful and instead gave a thumbs up and a smile with his eyes. 

“I’m glad.”

Sicheng finally picked up his own meal after Taeyong had set the empty wrapper of his own down. “So tell me about yourself,” he encouraged ahead of taking his first bite.

“Let’s see,” He took a second to push his glasses up his nose and allow him time to think. “I’ll be 26 this summer. I’m from a town near the mountains originally, my family is still there though, and I mean I guess I’ll be going back once this trip is done.”

Sicheng let out a hum but Taeyong missed it completely.

“It’s a pretty small town, mostly filled with tradesmen and fishers. There’s not a lot to look at… both people and scenery wise but it is on the water and that can be nice on the right day.”

“So what got you into fashion then if it wasn’t your surroundings?”

“My skin condition can get pretty bad. It was a lot worse when I was a kid and it made it a lot harder for my mom to dress me,” was he saying too much? Taeyong did have a tendency to ramble. “I think the care that she put into that really opened my eyes to what possibilities were out there for me and my clothes. We kind of turned it from an annoying problem into a game. Finding nice clothes that feel good became a fun challenge and then, just...yeah. Here we are.”

Sicheng, mid chomp, raised a brow to show he was listening and nodded. Tapping his napkin to his lips as he chewed and swallowed, he was then able to add, “It’s worked well for you. I’m impressed you managed to dress so nicely two days in a row _and_ in two very distinct styles.”

“O-oh, thanks,” Taeyong stammered and looked away. Taking a breath to steady himself through that compliment he brought his elbow to the table and rested his chin on his fist while looking out the window. “I used to get annoyed that I didn’t have my own,” he raised his free hand to make the air quotes, “‘style’ but I like so many different things. I think that’s what’s the most fun about fashion. You can change yourself entirely day to day using only your clothes.” He shifted from chin to cheek so that he could look back to Sicheng. “You know what I mean?”

The grin that had been growing on Sicheng’s lips spread even wider. “Of course I do. You know, I may only wear suits on work days, but I’ve got a few pretty good styles in my own wardrobe.” 

“Yeah?” Taeyong lit up too. “I’d love to see it sometime.” If it was too forward for being only an hour into their second meeting then he’d take it back but Sicheng really was growing on Taeyong and that wasn’t just the loneliness of being in a new place talking. He didn’t have too many others he could discuss fashion with, save his mentor and the strangers that frequented his favorite online forums. And, well, his old best friend. With Sicheng it all felt a little different, though. ‘Validating’ might be the right word. Taeyong liked to hear he dressed well, but the blonde made him feel like he dressed smart and that meant the whole world to him. 

“You said you’ve been bringing a sketchbook around, can I see it?”

“S-sure,” Taeyong started blushing again. “They’re a little… well… Okay, I think they’re good, even if others don’t.” But hopefully Sicheng would. Taeyong crossed his fingers underneath the table.

After sliding the old thing over, Taeyong took his tea cup in his hands to give them something to do (though there was nothing stopping the way his leg bounced in anticipation). “There’s a lot in there,” he tried to explain--or maybe justify, in case Sicheng was like the others and severely unimpressed, “Stuff from when I was in school and bored in class. It’s a little all over the place. The more recent things are at the back— though, that’s probably obvious huh?” He puffed out a laugh at his own expense. “I’m going to stop talking now and let you look.” He brought his latte to his lips.

To his surprise (and maybe horror) Sicheng took his time with Taeyong’s drawings. He lingered on each page from start to finish, occasionally letting out a hum but more often than not gazing in straight silence. And Taeyong? He fidgeted in his seat, sometimes adjusting his posture so that he could try and glean some insight into Sicheng’s thoughts through his expressions. He only settled back again when the blonde reached the last page, a little more than three-fourths through the whole notebook. That design was Taeyong’s personal favorite— a little bit of everything he loved from Victorian structural elements to embellishments inspired by his favorite Japanese visual rock artists. Taeyong was a glutton for color but he worked hard to keep them concentrated to points that would highlight other elements of his clothes (as much as he loved Sebastian Masuda’s style of vomiting a whole rainbow onto a garment in a way that was both jarring and comprehensive) and on this one, only had his reds, blues, and violets visible in the lace of the sleeves and the half skirt on his piece of paper. The rest was black and white. 

“You’ve got an interesting eye for things,” Sicheng said finally, gently closing the book and handing it back to Taeyong. “Have you studied anywhere?”

“Only from the internet and the owner of the boutique I work sometimes.”

“Wow.” 

Sicheng didn’t say anymore after that, though his brows did raise again. Taeyong didn’t know what to make of that. Was it good? He hoped for an answer but realized he wouldn’t get it when the other finished up his drink with one loud, final suck through his straw and the question of if Taeyong was ready to go. 

“Y-yeah.”

“Great! Let’s get out of here.” 

He led their way out of the cafe, holding the door open so Taeyong could step out and down the stairs onto the sidewalk. He blinked, raising his hand to just above the tops of his glasses and squinted to look around. 

“No car,” Sicheng supplied as he joined him. “There’s still a bit more before the office will be moderately in order for guests to come by. I figured we’d walk around?” 

“In order?”

“Yeah, I mean I’m sure you know that WWFS is almost upon us so it’s less a design studio and more a collection of fabric scraps and a loud screaming. Not the most fun for new visitors, though I guess a good insight into what the industry is really like.”

Taeyong let out a soft sound of interest and understanding as they took off. He considered asking more too, but figured when they got to Caterpillar and Co. he’d probably see some of it for himself. Wow though, really. What a treat to see a big studio in the thoroughs of preparation for their biggest event. Taeyong had to prep himself to take in everything, imprint it all onto his brain so he’d never forget it. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity after all.

Figured that they’d start in the Fashion District. Taeyong didn’t realize the cafe had been placed as well as it had, right at the south end of the street. As soon as they stepped out and started walking Taeyong noticed how the buildings shifted from modern steel to a mix of concrete shops and white painted design studios. He lingered a bit, walking first only a step or two behind Sicheng to suddenly lingering four, five steps plus. To any onlooker it wasn’t much--mostly rolls of fabric lining stacked walls with a few haphazardly dressed mannequins in the front windows--but to Taeyong this was _everything._ The start of what would be a world of design possibilities. 

“If you look over here,” Sicheng commented, pulling Taeyong from his starry eyed reverie with a point of his finger across the street. “It’s the Fashion Institute of City Centre.” 

“Wow. Seeing it in person is something.” Once upon a time it had been Taeyong’s dream school— that is, if school had ever really been on his horizon.

“It’s nice but not perfect, you know. Well, I guess nothing is. But it’s where I went to school.”

“Really?” Taeyong hopped up to Sicheng’s side. “How was it— Er, I mean I guess you answered that.”

Sicheng chuckled. “It’s a pretty good school. You learn a lot but I think it mostly benefits from being in a city so well known for fashion in the first place. I think so long as you end up here it doesn’t really matter what you do.”

“Ah.” Taeyong nodded and paused, taking a second to push his glasses up his nose as he contemplated speaking the thoughts that popped into his head next. “That...gives me a lot of comfort, you know? When you’re living a life that’s opposite to being in the city it’s hard to think otherwise.” Hard to think he could make it. 

“It’s hard, I get it.” Their eyes met for a moment and in that time Taeyong felt like they were sharing something he couldn’t quite explain. Then Sicheng looked back towards the path they were walking and continued, “I moved just to come to school here. I hardly knew the language or about the culture, and I’d never really left China except once when I was a kid for a dance competition. I didn’t know what I was doing but I applied anyway.

“It was pretty tough on my family too. I was really well set up for dance and I know it’s what they wanted--they’re performers themselves--but it wasn’t what _I_ wanted. I think I’m one of the lucky ones, though. They still let me come and encouraged me even when I was struggling. I know not everyone is as fortunate.”

“It panned out?” Taeyong offered to fill the pause left in Sicheng’s story. “You’re working for Caterpillar and Co.”

“Mhm. It did work out. I studied business development and PR and here I am, living it as best I can. Ah, let’s cross the street at the light. I want to show you that spot over there.”

_Over there?_ Taeyong squinted a bit, expecting some display case (they’d passed the White Rabbit one they met at the other day already) or a store of some sort. Instead he saw...crepes? 

“Have you ever had one?” Sicheng asked, pulling two menus from a plastic basket and handing one over. “I’d never seen these until I moved here. I probably put on some weight during my first year because I kept eating these whenever I had the chance. I’ve gotten better! But...sometimes it’s good to indulge right? This one’s my favorite.”

He tapped the menu over a picture of a matcha green crepe, vanilla ice cream, strawberries, red beans, and pocky sticking out of a pancake shell. 

“Oh wow,” On either side of it was a blueberry cheesecake and a strawberry cream one that both tempted Taeyong too. “These all look so good. I don’t know how to decide.” But when he learned that he could put strawberry flavored cream _into_ the matcha one Sicheng recommended he made up his mind quickly. 

“Let me pay for this one,” he also insisted, slipping in front of his suit-clad new friend and pulling his wallet from his bag. “You got everything at the cafe. Even if it’s a write-off for you I want to do something to show my thanks.”

Sicheng’s lips spread into a kitten-esque grin. “How can I say no to that? I appreciate it.”

_Whew,_ a small victory for Taeyong whose guilt of being taken around, and shown a company of his dreams, and treated to lunch was really starting to pile up. They were far from even but at least now he could pretend just the slightest bit.

Desserts in hand, they were off again; talking less and eating more until whipped cream spotted Taeyong’s nose and the corner of his lips. Good thing Taeyong had snagged a handful of napkins before they were off, lest he drip ice cream all over his white sweater.

Soon, Sicheng turned them from the main sidewalk towards an alley lined with nothing but the red bricks of the buildings that sandwiched it. Taeyong’s steps grew suddenly a little tense, a little hesitant. When he thought about exploring the city he imagined seeing the biggest buildings and the most well known landmarks. He looked to Sicheng but the other kept his gaze straight ahead and a small smile on his lips. He seemed completely unbothered. That meant Taeyong should be too but...well, that wasn’t the easiest thing for him. Eventually, however, the alley gave a little twist towards a new path that blossomed into an old stone archway and a little circle of shops. Dark eyes growing wide, Taeyong looked between the cul-de-sac and then back down the path now behind him. 

“Cool, right?” Sicheng asked. 

“I never would’ve thought. How does this place even last if there’s no casual traffic.” 

“You’d be surprised, it’s not too much of a secret really, not if you use the internet.” He shrugged. “Also there was a faded sign in an arrow on the wall when we entered but I think you missed it. Anyway!”

Taeyong didn’t even have the time to blush or grow embarrassed because Sicheng was already leading him from place to place, pointing out their purposes. There was a bit of everything in the space it seemed— a restaurant, a cafe, a thrift store, and a bar among other things spaced out between the two layers of the buildings. Above them fairy lights strung between a few second storey shops and the roofs of the single level buildings glistened despite the early afternoon hour. It felt a little surreal and a whole lot magical. Taeyong wasn’t even aware of how his eyes grew wide in response.

“This is one of the favored accessory shops by our designers,” Sicheng said as he waved him over. In the windows were enough dangling chains and sparkly pendants that Taeyong was already bouncing on the balls of his feet without even seeing the rest of their goods. It made Sicheng chuckle, moving his way from Taeyong’s side towards the door.

“Let’s go in.”

Inside was even better. From the displays Taeyong had thought it would be more like a standard jewelry store: somewhere with bright lights, clear glass cases, white walls that made the whole place feel cold and unwelcoming unless patrons were guaranteed buyers. But here it was more eclectic, more whimsical. Different types of displays from sterling silver trees to basic plastic geometric stands lined table tops with arrays of jewelry dripping from them. On the walls were hooks that also showcased various goods. And towards the back Taeyong noticed wholesale stocks of studs, chains, buttons, and beads for sale. No wonder this place was so popular. 

Taeyong noticed that Sicheng went over to a table near the wall to look at rings and took a step in his direction to join him, when a whole row of earrings snagged his attention instead. He perked up, shuffling over so as to not disturb how precariously perched and packed some of the shop’s goods were set up, and started to oogle the collection. He hadn’t bought earrings in forever, and as his hand rose to touch his orbital he realized he hadn’t even changed this one out since he got it over a year ago.

Maybe it was time. 

“Excuse me,” he called over to a clerk at the other side of the same table. “I need to think about switching this out soon, do you have any recommendations?”

After a few back and forths on some suggestions, she finally presented him with a whole new spread of earrings for all five of the holes he had. Taeyong shouldn’t spend. He knew he shouldn’t spend but the crosses for his lobes were so cool, matching silver with the tiny baubles for his second holes, and he never thought about putting a pink ring in for the last one but now that he’d seen it he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. 

“I can help you replace them,” The clerk said in a sweet tone after he paid. “Can you step around over here?”

“Oh, what are you getting?” Sicheng cooed and came over as well. In his hands were a few necklaces and rings making Taeyong feel less bad about his rather impulsive purchase (even though between the two of them Sicheng had the higher paying job and wasn’t already spending his money on a vacation). 

“Just some earrings,” He was given a hand mirror to look at the final product and his face lit up in response. “Ah,” He loved it, but turning to Sicheng he still asked, “what do you think?”

“Looks good,” the affirmation felt nice, it made Taeyong hum happily. “Suits the outfit a lot too. I think Jaehyun will like them as well, they’re pretty much his style.”

“Jaehyun?”

“You’ll meet him soon. Ah, miss, can I get these please?”

Taeyong slipped the little plastic baggy with his old earrings into his pocket as they left. It’d felt like they’d spent hours together but the sun was still hanging high in the sky. Taeyong was growing tired though, and though he certainly wouldn’t show it he couldn’t help turning away to stifle a small yawn. 

“Me too,” Sicheng agreed with a laugh. “It’s always around this time that I’m ready for a nap. But ‘fashion never sleeps’ so I guess neither do we.”

“Isn’t that Mad Hatter’s quote?” Taeyong was sure he’d heard it before and recently too, though he did read a lot of pre-WWFS interviews.

“Wow, you nailed it.” Visibly impressed, Sicheng paused to fold his arms over his chest and gave Taeyong a very obvious once over. “You really do know a lot.”

“Just, uh, a lot of weird stuff,” Taeyong returned in a feigned attempt to brush away the other’s compliments. “Nothing very useful.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see.” 

It felt cryptic and Taeyong’s general state of being a stressed out human wanted Sicheng to explain himself but he’d been around the other enough now that he knew he wouldn’t get that answer. He breathed out a sigh, the other man was already traipsing around the cul-de-sac so Taeyong might as well join him lest he wallow too long.

“I wish it were later so we could check out Kitten’s Grin but they won’t open for a few more hours.” 

Taeyong’s gaze followed the direction of Sicheng’s pointing, towards a black bricked building with unlit neon signs above and around the doors and windows, a singular hanging placard with no more than a pair of cat eyes and a wide toothed smile on it. 

“Seems spooky.”

“The owner would be so happy to hear you say that. It’s— Oh!” Sicheng’s wrist was buzzing again. “Looks like they’re ready for us to come back. Shall we?”

They were ready, but was Taeyong? He resisted the urge to bite onto his bottom lip in front of the other and instead used the nail of his index finger to pick at the cuticle of his thumb (if it wasn’t one bad habit it was another). “Yeah,” He swallowed as much anxiousness away as he could. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll call the car.” 

Sicheng did his best to make small talk on the car ride over despite Taeyong’s sudden onset of pseudo paralysis. Still he nodded and gave one word responses where he could, even if his eyes were glued to the window.

“They’re not in the fashion district?” He asked eventually, noting that what he thought would be five minutes had turned into fifteen. They were still driving.

“Oh no. None of the Big Three are. They’re a little too high profile to just be wandering around that area all the time.”

“High profile,” Taeyong nodded and swallowed and subconsciously checked over himself a few times. His palm smoothed down the creases in his sweater a few times, knowing though that he would have to do it again when it would actually matter, once they’d stepped out from the car. 

As if reading his mind, which frankly wasn’t hard to do with the way Taeyong fidgeted at his side and wore his heart on his sleeve, Sicheng placed a hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to relax. “There’s nothing to worry about. They’re excited to meet you.”

“That’s hard to believe—!” Taeyong’s hand slammed over his lips. “That was supposed to be a thought not a comment. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be,” that same hand just at Taeyong’s shoulder waved the apology away after Sicheng pulled it back. “Just trust me okay? It’s not every day I pull someone off the streets and into their offices. They trust my tastes, you know. You should too.”

That raised a good question, something Taeyong’s mind had started to touch on here and there but never long enough to linger. Who _was_ Sicheng exactly? What was his position that he had been wandering around when they’d met yesterday? What was it that allowed him the chance to take Taeyong out on a whole day date, today? His card had only said “March Hare” and now Taeyong wondered _what the heck did that mean?_ They trusted Sicheng’s taste but for what? Oof… Taeyong brought a hand to his temple. Too many questions gave him a headache...

“We’re here.”

The building they pulled up at was unassuming until they trailed around the sides and back to park the car. Taeyong didn’t think such structure was possible; full walls made up of windows that, thanks to the early sunset colored sky, gave any outside view full access to what was happening inside. Sure enough, the first thing Taeyong noticed were the number of people running back and forth with armfulls of fabric or stretched out measuring tapes. Clothing racks and mannequins blocked some of Taeyong’s visibility but now it made sense why they wouldn’t house themselves where the eyes of the fashion world would linger on them. It just didn’t answer the question of why they picked a building layout like this in the first place?

But that was answered soon enough as Sicheng led him from the car, through the front entrance, and up the elevator; when he could see the whole of the city laid out before him in twinkling windows and building shadows. “Feels… rich,” he let out under his breath, quite enough that hopefully not even Sicheng could hear him. 

“There are snacks and drinks in the kitchen, can I get you anything?”

“Wow, really rich.”

“What was that?”

“Just a water, please!”

“One water it is. I’ll be right back, Taeyong.” 

He shouldn’t have asked for anything at all, he realized, because now that Sicheng was gone Taeyong felt like he truly did not belong in this building. He took a step towards the nearest wall that he could, one arm raising to drape across his body while his fingers played with the fabric at his elbow. Occasionally people would pause and look at him with raised or pinched brows and Taeyong merely managed to smile and whisper “hello?” back. They were all dressed so well, he noted. Nothing like Caterpillar and Co.’s style booklet but nice and eclectic in their own ways with looks ranging from hypebeast levels of streetwear to elegant gothic lolita. What a dream it must be to be able to wear whatever you wanted. Taeyong only knew that luxury so well, and where he came from had earned it at a high price. 

“One water,” Sicheng put the bottle in Taeyong’s hand and set his soul free from his body at the same time. 

“Oh thank God,” he said in an exhale, this time loud enough that everyone had heard him. A few people tried to hide their giggles behind their hands or by turning away but Sicheng outright cackled at Taeyong’s expense.

“You’re very funny Lee Taeyong.”

“You, uh.” He huffed through his nostrils and tried not to bite his lip. “Flatter me.”

“I’m sure you’ve got more than enough from the view of the city. Let’s come this way.”

That wasn’t true, Taeyong thought about protesting. The city really was beautiful and they were so lucky to look at it in such a way every day. But now was no time for that. Taeyong stuck close to Sicheng’s side, sometimes sneaking glances at works in progress along the way, sometimes trying to understand what everyone around him did at the company, and always suppressing the sounds of awe that wanted to leave him as they went.

Sicheng’s voice pulled him from it all--the magic, the mystery, the want to drink in every inch of this studio--with a soft call of, “Here we are.” He stopped, gesturing towards closed double doors. Taeyong stepped up at his side, head tilting up just to get the whole picture. What would otherwise be plain white was covered in splatter of black, red, and gold that struck Taeyong as nonsensical until he took a step back and saw the intended image unfold: A big... top hat?

“Hat?”

“A hat for a hatter.” Sicheng’s eyes creased with his grin. 

“Hatter…” Oh! “M-mad Hatter? Like—” Mad Hatter Designs; the lynchpin of Caterpillar and Co. whose off-the-runway looks could go for millions. Taeyong set his sights on White Rabbit because he seemed attainable, Mad Hatter might as well be a God among men.

Sicheng knocked four times in a pattern that took Taeyong aback, then received an answer Taeyong couldn’t catch before his hand fell on the bright silver, tea cup shaped handle. “I’ll be in in a bit. Don’t worry though, yeah? Jaehyun doesn’t bite...a lot.”

That name... Why was it so familiar to Taeyong? Jaehyun… Jaehyun… _’Jaehyun will like them as well, they’re pretty much his style.’_ Oh. Back in the jewelry shop. About Taeyong’s earrings. Taeyong swallowed and touched his right earlobe nervously. 

“You’ll be fine.” Sicheng quickly started to shuffle Taeyong in. “Good luck~”

Taeyong jumped as the door shut behind him, taking only a second to glance back before a voice called his attention forward. 

“You must be Taeyong.” 

It wasn’t a question as much as a statement, drawing Taeyong’s gaze to a well dressed (well, duh) man at the desk placed across from him. Taeyong almost lamented that the other was sitting, obscuring most of his view of what he was sure would be a top tier fit. From the top alone Taeyong had an idea, with gold chains connecting the two ends of his longer-than-standard collar, and fastening across the breast of a burgundy vest. He actually had expected to see some sort of hat on his brunette head but quickly found them all situated on a rack at the right of the desk. Even those were something— ranging in brim and height size, some in checkered patterns around their bases and others pure black with large accents of colored silk and plumed feathers. 

Mad Hatter--Jaehyun?--pulled his glove covered linked fingers away from his face and sat back. His body was relaxed, but his eyes hadn’t moved. Sharp, scrutinizing, drinking in the details of every well-spun fibre of Taeyong’s outfit and polish of his accessories.

“Can you spin for me?”

“S-spin?”

“Yes, please.” He smiled, causing dimples to poke into his cheeks and Taeyong’s own to flush a light pink. Placing his left foot behind his right he gave a quick little twirl.

“Thanks. One more now? Slower?”

_Weird._ Taeyong couldn’t help thinking as he repeated the action a second time with jarring, torqued motions. 

“Ah, Sicheng really does have an eye for these things, doesn’t he?”

“I told you!” The man in question called from behind Taeyong, having let himself in (though Taeyong couldn’t help but feel he had been called forward in a way). “I have taste and those tastes just happen to suit yours too.”

“Mind if I take a closer look?” But Jaehyun was already more or less upon him. Now Taeyong could see that he was quite...tall. Taller than Sicheng who was already taller than Taeyong. He had to tilt his chin up a bit just to look at him. 

From his pant’s pocket (checkered slacks that Taeyong wasn’t expecting but now wanted so badly to drool over) Jaehyun pulled out a measuring tape and snapped it open. “Your arm, please.” He smiled.

Taeyong held out his right, then his left, then watched Jaehyun bend at his knees to get his legs, all the while shouting numbers to Sicheng to tap into his phone.

“Normally we need you to be as naked as possible but I don’t want to scare you and I think we can get enough of an idea like this. Could you remove your sweater for me, though?”

Taeyong could and then did, hugging it to his chest until he needed to stretch out both arms as wide as they would go. Fortunately, in no time at all, he was able to slide it back on again.

“Your proportions really are,” Jaehyun paused, hummed, swiped through Sicheng’s phone before continuing, “perfect. ”

“Th-thank you.”

“It really is a compliment,” Sicheng chimed in and Jaehyun nodded. “When I saw you I could tell right away. We’ve been looking for a model like you. No one so far has been to Jaehyun’s tastes.”

“Tastes? You make me sound like some sort of perv.” Jaehyun’s nose scrunched with his laughter. “He does have good style though. I like those earrings.”

Sicheng shot Taeyong a glance, eyes glistening. “Told you so.”

Taeyong’s hand flew up to touch them again, maybe hide a little bit but mostly play with them as a way to channel his energy. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention (and something told him he might have to start now). 

“He’s very cute,” Jaehyun remarked, returning to his desk but only to sit on top of the smooth wood finish. “It’s kind of striking how he can look so chic but act so adorable.”

“I can see it now. He’ll be our secret weapon.”

“Our pièce de résistance.”

“No one will know what hit ‘em!”

Before Taeyong’s eyes he watched Sicheng and Jaehyun grow closer and closer to one another until they were grasping each other’s hands tightly and beaming at a shared vision Taeyong couldn’t key in on. He thought to ask for clarification until he saw how they might as well have tears in their shining eyes. He’d let them have their moment.

And when they finally remembered that Taeyong was still with him they were both quick to wave him over warmly.

“You’re perfect,” Jaehyun said, voice equal parts soft, deep, and eager. “What do you say? Will you model for us, Taeyong?”

Model. Taeyong never thought about modeling. Truth be told, he didn’t find himself to be the most attractive. He could _dress_ well, sure, but the rest of him hardly mattered in that equation so long as his body boasted his clothing well. And actually when he took too hard of a look at himself, he found his eyes to be quite scary. Wouldn’t others think the same?

“Are you sure you want me?” He asked instead of going into specifics. The other two laughed in tandem. 

“Of course we want you. We couldn’t ask otherwise,” Sicheng, feeling the most friendly with Taeyong between them, teased gently. He brought his hand to Taeyong’s shoulder then trailed his touch down until they could link fingers. “I know your passion is in design but it’s fine to take a detour occasionally, right?”

“In design? You like to design?” Jaehyun raised a brow Taeyong’s way. “Well, I mean, if it helps convince you we only need models doing modeling for a few days a week. The rest of your time could be spent here working on other things. We have plenty of scrap fabric lying around.”

“Really? Does that mean--” Taeyong stopped himself. Of course that meant what he thought it did. But did Jaehyun mean to say that? “D-do you mean it?” Model be damned, Jaehyun-- the _Mad Hatter_ \-- was offering Taeyong the chance to play around his studio and make clothes to his heart’s content? Taeyong would do anything for that chance and modeling almost seemed too easy of an exchange. Could it be true? Taeyong knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, his mother had taught him that well from a very, very young age. He wouldn’t question the chances he was being given. So he nodded maybe a bit more furiously than he meant to and said, “Sure. I’ll do it. I- I’d love to do it.” 

Jaehyun clapped his hands together. “Wonderful! It’s settled then.” Spinning on his heel, his hands quickly became busy sorting through what few items he had on top of his desk until he unearthed a small, leatherbound notebook. “Tomorrow, hmmm…” He slipped the pen from the elastic strap that held it closed and tapped the end against his lips. “Can you come in at 10:30AM? It’ll give me some time to get proper measurements and some sketching done before our tea meeting at 1. I can have contracts drafted up by then too.” 

“Yeah, of course. I can do that.” Taeyong didn’t have anything else he was doing. And even if he did those plans would all immediately be cancelled to do this instead. “I just.” He was speaking out loud now, glancing around the room like it would give him answers and scratching the back of his head nervously. “I need to figure out how to get here.”

“That’s easy,” Jaehyun waved away Taeyong’s worries with a swipe of his hand. “Sicheng will bring you.”

“Absolutely.” The other man nodded. “I’ll pick you up at 10 sharp. We can come together.”

“Every day?” 

The blonde brought his hand to his lips and giggled. “Well maybe. Why? Do you want me to be your personal escort?”

“N-no!” Taeyong, flustered, stammered. “Not like that!”

“Well, well,” Jaehyun called over to his friend (Secretary? Sidekick? Just who was the March Hare?), “You really picked a good one.”

“He’s easy to pick on,” Sicheng agreed with a nod. “You’ll have a lot of fun with him.”

Whatever that meant Taeyong would remain left in the dark because Sicheng was already beckoning him back towards the entrance. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Jaehyun,” he called over his shoulder. “Please don’t sleep here tonight. You have a nice apartment with a real bed in it. Go home to that!” 

The door shut quietly behind them before the Mad Hatter could get his own words in reply.

“Does he stay here late a lot?” Taeyong asked once he was sure they were out of earshot. 

“Unfortunately. I’d like to say it’s a casualty of WWFS coming up but he’s a bit of a workaholic so it’s more likely to find him here than it is at his home. Shame, too, it’s a nice home.” 

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

Taeyong realized Sicheng was staring at him, eyebrow raised in anticipation. “Ah, sorry! I’m a bit of a workaholic too so I get it. That’s all I was thinking about.”

“Well then~” 

What was that supposed to mean? Why did Taeyong’s cheeks turn red? 

“The two of you will get on I’m sure.” 

“M-maybe,” Taeyong squeaked out in response then shuffled them as far away from that topic (and the smirk on Sicheng’s face) as he could go. 

Pausing for a moment, Sicheng tapped away between his phone and his watch. Taeyong took one more long look around this floor, knowing now that he could not only come back but _work_ within these walls. (Still, he couldn’t help but soak it in just in case someway, somehow, this was just some sort of dream). 

As they slipped back into the car Sicheng’s whole attention shifted back to Taeyong. “Are you hungry? We can pick something up on the way back if you’d like.”

“Actually,” Taeyong’s stomach once again answered for him. “I am hungry!” He amended quickly before Sicheng could tease him again. “But I was wondering. What about that bar?”

Sicheng’s head tilted. “The bar? Kitten’s Grin? It’s kind of far, you sure you want to go back?”

“Yes, that one! I’d really like to. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” 

Sicheng had said the bar was far but after taking a sharp turn it felt to Taeyong like they arrived in no time; though maybe that was thanks to the starlight reverie that settled upon him looking at the city lights through his window. Sicheng, who was busy tapping away at his phone, seemed to be in his own world as well. It gave Taeyong a little bit of peace and reprieve; a chance to recharge his introvert batteries. 

Back again at the mouth of the alleyway, Sicheng gently tugged Taeyong from pointless thoughts and shooed him out the car door. “Back down the rabbit hole we go,” he chuckled, nudging the door closed with the sole of his nice shoes. Taeyong couldn’t help but wonder then which was worth more, Sicheng and his garments or the car itself. From the looks of the other’s actions, he had a bit of an idea.

Though the walkway was a touch more spooky in the cast of evening shadows, emerging through the archway struck Taeyong like magic. The fairy lights illuminated above them like stars or fireflies, rustling when the wind coursed over them but otherwise staying transfixed in their place. Despite the late-ish hour Taeyong was surprised to see that everything was still open— in fact, more was open now because the bars and restaurants that had been on afternoon rest were now alight with energy. People hanging out around the entrance ways or in the windows kept catching his eye as they made their way past a line formed at the mouth of Kitten’s Grin. 

_Shouldn’t we…_ Taeyong considered asking as he glanced back down the row of at least 25 people waiting to get in. He didn’t feel right, a nobody in a new town, cutting who had to be regulars but Sicheng walked with purpose and there was no way he’d be stopping that anytime soon. Instead, he pressed close to the March Hare’s back while they approached two young boys standing at the doors. They couldn’t be much older than Taeyong— actually no, they didn’t even look older than him. They _were_ the same height though which was a wonderful relief after spending all day with Sicheng and then meeting Jaehyun. 

“Well look who’s here!” The silver haired one called in half excitement and half a coo. His hands slipped into the pockets of his black pinstripe pants and he rocked between his heels and toes as if trying to size Sicheng up. “Where have ya been, Rabbit? It’s been too long.”

“Excuse you,” Sicheng scoffed. “I’m a _Hare._ Don’t liken me to the bunny.”

_Bunny?_ Taeyong blinked. He didn’t mean...White Rabbit?

“White Rabbit hasn’t come around here in a while either though, you know,” The blonde guard, smoothing his hands down a white blazer that matched his counterpart, chimed in. “You two might as well be one and the same at this point.”

“You brats.” But Sicheng was smiling and moved quick to reach over and pinch both of their cheeks. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Hey, hey, hey!” The silver one batted Sicheng’s hand away. “Don’t touch the merchandise okay? I gotta keep this face as pretty as it is or else the Boss’ll have my head.” 

“That’s true, you don’t offer too much otherwise,” the blonde snickered, earning himself a glare fueled with fire from his counterpart. 

“By the way,” Sicheng interjected into their impending squabble. “This is Taeyong. He’s going to be our new model.”

“Oooh,” The silver one whispered.

“A model,” The blonde finished. 

“He’ll do well don’t you think?” They nodded. “And Taeyong this is Donghyuck and the other is Mark.” He pointed to the silver one and the blonde one respectively. 

“Nice to meet you,” Taeyong replied with a soft smile and a bow of his head. Slowly, he’d finally come to step around from his hiding place to stand besides Sicheng and met the other two to shake their hands. “It’s my first time in the city so I’m excited to explore around here.” 

“You’ve come to the right place.” Donghyuck gave a confident grin. “There isn’t a thing that happens in this city that doesn’t make it back to us here. Not many people may know us but it’s better that way. We know it all.”

“Sounds scary,” Taeyong returned honestly, laughing as he looked between the three of them. 

Sicheng simply nodded. “That’s kind of how we like it.” Then his hand linked with Taeyong’s (prompting the older between the two of them to jump) and he tugged him towards the door. “Shall we?”

“S-sure!” Taeyong looked to Donghyuck and Mark. “Nice meeting you. Uh… see you inside?”

“Oh no. They’re too young to go inside. That’s why the owner stationed them out here.”

“H-Hey!” Donghyuck and Mark shouted in unison towards theirs backs as Sicheng quickly shuffled them inside, snickering all the while.

“They’re fun,” he added once they were out of ear shot. “I just don’t like to let them know that. I think you’ll get to know them both pretty soon if you continue to hang out around here or with us.”

Taeyong nodded, thinking how nice that would be. The last five days had him feeling the weight of no longer knowing anyone around him. Though meeting Sicheng quelled some of that a bit, Taeyong knew himself well enough to recognize his anxiety would rear its horrid head the second they parted. He tried to prepare himself for it. But more than that, he tried to ignore it all outright. 

Tonight was going to be about having fun!

The bar’s black brick exterior betrayed its insides. Each faux window (or maybe they were real and just blacked out? Taeyong wasn’t so sure) was outlined in alternating neon lights— pink, blue, green, then repeat— that illuminated the glass vases of strange flowers and vines before them. Zig zags of plush carpet lead them from entrance way to coat check, where a woman in a corset and short skirt greeted them and, like the bouncers before her, lamented how long it had been since seeing Sicheng. Then the ground practically plummeted, descending into a staircase accented with checkered tiling that reminded Taeyong of Jaehyun’s hat. Taeyong took careful steps after Sicheng, trying not to lose his footing no matter how much his eyes were drawn to the shadowy mushrooms and tree branches painted across the wall, until they landed on the final floor where the bar greeted them to their left and doors to the bathroom popped up at the right. Between both entrance ways was a sign reading “This Way” with arrows pointing each direction.

“This is…” Taeyong thought he spoke under his breath, but Sicheng turned to him with a tilt of his head. Unaware of how brightly his eyes were glistening or how big a grin spread across his lips Taeyong continued, “Incredible.” 

“Isn’t it? It gets better.”

Sure enough, when Taeyong saw that the stools at the bar were themselves mushroom shaped and the neon from up above spread across the walls in loose patterns of spirals and waves. He didn’t think it’d be possible when Sicheng said it would be better but he definitely had been proven wrong. 

Sicheng leaned down to say something but between Taeyong’s awe and the music pumping from speakers in the upper front corners, he wasn’t able to catch what it was. ‘No matter,” Sicheng seemed to say with a wave of his hand. He pointed to two empty toadstools at the opposite end and then waved Taeyong to follow after him. Here it was a bit easier to hear— at least, they could when they leaned close to one another (close enough that Taeyong could feel Sicheng’s breath against the shell of his ear). He pulled a menu from the wire wrack against the wall and placed it between them. 

Taeyong trailed his fingers over the plastic and across images of brightly colored drinks in more hues than Taeyong could wrap his head around. He couldn’t imagine what something swirled between neon green and deep purple tasted like but he absolutely wanted to try. That said, the drinks around it, in shades of orange, pink, and even blue, were also catching his eye. Some of them even had what looked like cakes as their decoration on the rim of the glass. 

“Are these really bar drinks?” Taeyong asked. 

“Believe it or not. The big expensive ones have a lot more alcohol in them than it seems, and they’re fun to take photos of. If you look here.” He dragged his finger across a list of unembellished names at the bottom. “These are shots if you’re looking for something that packs a quicker punch.”

“I don’t really drink,” Taeyong confessed a little shyly. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Hm. Well,” Sicheng took another glance across the page. “I feel like you keep looking at this one. So why don’t we split that and then a flight of the house shots?”

That sounded like more alcohol than Taeyong had consumed during all of his would-be college years but saying no felt...not wrong, because Sicheng wasn’t pressuring him or anything, but for the mood of the day and the mood of the place to refuse felt like he’d be passing up an opportunity he, himself, had asked for. “Sure,” he said instead, looking almost eagerly at the green-purple concoction that would be coming his way. “Sounds perfect!”

Sicheng pushed onto his feet then, hands far enough on the bar that they propped his weight forward to call for someone’s attention. Though there were two people back behind the counter already— a young man with well styled long hair that stayed out of his face with braids bobby pinned to the sides of his head and an equally beautiful young girl who wore her shockingly pink hair in a top knot— neither were the one to greet them. Actually, Taeyong had no idea where the man before them popped out from. He could’ve sworn he was looking at the length of the bar when a bright, toothy grin popped before his face and a casually dressed man appeared after.

“Sicheng!” He greeted excitedly, arms outstretched in the direction of his friend and looking like he wanted to pull him into a hug. Sicheng, instead, shook both of the other’s hands with an unreadable smirk on his lips. The man behind the bar pouted but continued to ask, “To what do I owe the honor?” 

“We are celebrating tonight.”

“We?” The man raised a brow and looked around until his eyes settled onto Taeyong. “Oh, hello.”

“H-hi,” Taeyong tried to wave, grew awkward in the middle of the action, and then tucked his hair behind his ear. 

“Who are you?” The question was posed bluntly but the bartender’s tone is light and welcoming. He tilted his head and smiled the same grin he met them with.

“Lee Taeyong—”

“Our next model at Caterpillar and Co. Lovely, isn’t he?” 

“Oh, a _model?_ ” Why did that remind Taeyong so much of the boys upstairs? “What timing. It’s nice to meet you, Lee Taeyong.” He held out his hand between them. “I’m Nakamoto Yuta. Welcome to my bar.”

“This is your bar?” Taeyong asked wide eyed as he took the other’s hand and shook it with a small bow. “That’s amazing.”

“What’s _really_ amazing is that Sicheng thought to take you here to celebrate.”

“Actually,” Sicheng corrected, settling back onto his seat. “Taeyong wanted to come. I just obliged.”

Yuta tugged Taeyong in close to fake whisper, “Sicheng loves to pretend he’s cool but secretly he loves me.”

Then Sicheng tapped Taeyong’s shoulder and beckoned him close with a curl of his finger to not-so-quietly whisper in return, “Yuta wishes.” His hand fell down onto the menu and he smiled with so much sweetness it could maybe make Taeyong’s sweet tooth rot. “Can we place our orders~” (Taeyong had realized this before but Sicheng could be scary).

Watching him head off to make their drinks Taeyong was struck by how diverse Sicheng’s pool of friends seemed to be (well, if he could even call Yuta one of Sicheng’s friends). He seemed like a streetwear extraordinaire just based on what he was wearing tonight: extra long, baggy black sweater with splits at the elbows and the stomach where silver rings connected both strips of fabric. The top draped over skin tight, multicolored splatter pants. Really he was just missing a good pair of branded sneakers, but honestly Taeyong liked his choice of Doc Martens instead. He hadn’t noticed when they first met but as Yuta came back with their drinks he saw the black band choker around his neck; a wonderfully subtle addition, just like the whole array of jewelry that dripped off from and up the shell of his ear that was revealed when Yuta tucked his long, brown hair back.

“One Curious and Curiouser.” He slid the two-toned blended beverage with frosting on the rim and fruit and fruit filled cookies sticking from the top between the two of them. “And.” He spun on his heel to grab a small tray from the counter behind him. “One ‘Drink Me’ flight.” True to its name, each drink, colored for the rainbow, rested in a small glass bottle with a note around the neck that read “Drink Me.” Taeyong picked up the violet one gingerly and brought it closer for inspection. Whatever it was (drink type or flavor) he had no way to tell. “I don’t know how you’re going to split though,” Yuta mused, folding his arms over his chest. “But I’m very interested to see you try.” 

“Let’s do them first,” Sicheng suggested just as Taeyong started for the safer seeming drink. He took the red one first, tilted his head back and poured half of the tiny bottle between his lips, swallowed hard, they looked to Taeyong as he let out a soft, “Ah~ Your turn.”

Taeyong took it carefully. Half a bottle looked far less intimidating than a full one and Sicheng next to him looked fine so he brought it to his own lips and drank quickly. Big mistake— Taeyong’s eyes blew wide and he nearly choked on the licorice spice that flooded his mouth and burned down his throat. “O-oh,” He gasped, turning away to cough. “That wasn’t… I…”

Sicheng’s hand fell onto his back while Yuta chimed over, “Not what you expected?” Taeyong couldn’t see the look on his face but he had a feeling it was either proud or smug. Maybe even both. 

“That’s the fun of the house shots. You never know what you’ll get.”

“Licorice was definitely a surprise, Yuta. Makes me wonder what the rest will have.”

“Well.” Yuta spread his hands over the remaining five bottles and clapped them together in time with Taeyong straightening his back. “Why don’t you find out?”

“Are you ready Taeyong?” Sicheng’s tone was far more sympathetic now. “You don’t have to drink more if you don’t want to.”

But actually, Taeyong did. His body felt instantly warm and though the shock hit him hard the aftermath was quite… good. He didn’t hate the taste much either. “I’m okay,” he assured.

“Yeah? Then why don’t you pick the next one.”

Taeyong went for green and rejoiced when he learned that it was cherry. This one was much less abrasive than the first. It gave him hope for the rest. Sicheng picked a very sour lemony purple next, lips puckering when it hit his taste buds. Yuta chucked, whispering “It gets them every time.” The yellow was minty--maybe too minty, Taeyong wondered if he had just drunk mouthwash instead of liquor, and the blue hit in waves of cinnamon that the licorice had prepared Taeyong for. And finally, they ended on an orange that was, indeed, orange.

“Wow,” Taeyong’s hand hit the bar a little harder than he meant to and it rattled the empty bottles in front of them. “That was-- what an experience.” 

Sicheng hummed in confirmation and Yuta beamed proudly. “That’s all we do here at Kitten’s Grin. If you’re looking for experience you’ve come to the right place. Though admittedly the other drink you have is a little more straightforward but still delicious I promise.” He nudged it over to them. “Drink it up before it melts more.”

The frosting on the rim had gotten a little sad and droopy and Taeyong, tipsy and sugar craving, hurried to scoop some of the blue onto his finger. He licked it off slowly, a little sad that it, too, wasn’t a fun and surprising flavor, though his palate quite liked the nice neutrality of vanilla. Sicheng picked the cookies from the top before Taeyong could get to them but then handed one over. “Try it. They’re pretty good. Yuta makes them in house.”

“Tch. You know I don’t.”

“Oh really? Well, I mean, you know you _could._ ”

“Will there ever come a day when you don’t walk into my establishment and insult my very being?” 

“No,” Sicheng hummed, shifting until his face was as close to Yuta’s as he could get. He blew him an air kiss. “And if there ever is you’ll know it’s not me.” 

Taeyong missed most of that exchange though, being far too absorbed in the cherry sweet flavor of the cookie. The drink itself was a rather refreshing mix of grape and green apple with enough alcohol to hit at the end of a sip and Taeyong, already swaying from the set of shots, was taking everything else in stride. He was already tipsy! What was a little more? 

He was almost halfway through the glass when Sicheng and Yuta turned their attention back to him, watching as he clung with gripped fingers to the bar just to keep him upright (and at the drink he was growing quite fond of).

“Oh dear,” Sicheng chuckled, slowly pulling it away from Taeyong which put a pout on his lips. “I have to have some too, you know.”

“Right. Sorry!” 

Yuta waved his hand to take Taeyong’s attention away from his self-loathing at hogging the drink and the blatant way he was still staring at it in want. He leaned his folded arms on the bar and came in closer. “So a model, huh? You’re working at one of the biggest fashion brands out there. Must be a dream come true.”

Taeyong nodded a few too many times. “It is. I mean, I,” he paused. Sicheng was still right next to him and Taeyong didn’t want to say anything that could come off as ungrateful for the opportunity the blonde had given to him. “It is.” 

“He came here hoping to do design,” Sicheng shared instead, mouth still more or less around the straw. He seemed unbothered, but Taeyong struggled a bit to read his tone. 

“How did you meet?” Yuta asked.

“On Fashion Ave.”

“I was looking at the White Rabbit designs in the window.”

“Oh.” Yuta lit up and he glanced at Sicheng with mischief written all over his face. “Mr. Chase Me.”

“Stupid.” Sicheng rolled his eyes.

“Hey,” Taeyong huffed. “It’s just his catch phrase.”

“Yeah, but, like, it’s not my problem that it’s so dumb.”

“Hey!”

Yuta snickered. “He’s just mad because he’s a grey knock off. So you like White Rabbit?”

“I do.” Taeyong nodded and then glanced down to his hands playing with one of the empty “Drink Me” bottles. He set it aside to still himself and then picked it up to play again hardly half a minute later. “I see a lot of what I want to make in his stuff. It’s pretty inspiring. I hope I can make it to his level one day.”

“And I think it’ll be possible,” Sicheng agreed. “We all have to start somewhere. And I’m grateful you agreed to be my model as your jumping off point.”

“Lucky for you Taeyong, you have the best mentor to model you in the whole world.”

Taeyong blinked up. “Huh?” Ten wasn’t part of Caterpillar and Co.

Yuta’s eyes went wide. “You haven’t told him?”

“You…?” Taeyong followed Yuta’s line of sight back to Sicheng beside him. “You?!”

Taking one final hard suck through the straw Sicheng nudged the glass away and shook his head. “I don’t do any of that anymore though.” He… did he whine? Yuta seemed to eat the sound up. “Of course it’d be you to drudge up the past.”

Yuta gave a single shoulder shrug. “I do what I can.”

“Wait.” Taeyong leaned in a little too close, nearly stumbling from his stool had Sicheng not caught and balanced him. “You modeled?”

Sicheng let out something between a hum and a sigh, contemplating his answer while Taeyong marveled at how well he held his drink. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag now so…” As his voice trailed, his hand slipped into his pocket for his phone. He swiped open the lock, tapped around a few times with his thumb before finally pulling up Instagram. Somehow, in all of Taeyong’s imaginings about Sicheng as a person beyond the model scouting tour guide he had come to know in the last two days, he never imagined him being on apps like Instagram. He blinked down to Sicheng’s profile, crawling onto the other to get a better, and more stabilized, look.

“You were a model?”

“I think the more proper term is ‘influencer’ but yes, I was that.”

“Wow what? Why aren’t you walking at WWFS then?”

“Modeling was a nice thought but I didn’t like wearing what other people told me to wear and Jaehyun couldn’t find inspiration in my body enough for us to be successful.” He shrugged the shoulder that Taeyong hadn’t perched himself onto. “I like my current job better. And my past just helps me hone in on good raw talent. Case and point.” He nudged Taeyong a little with the side of his head and made him giggle. 

“So cool,” Taeyong muttered sleepily, trailing one hand from beneath his head to the phone so he could scroll further through his feed; past photos posed in front of pools wearing nothing but jeans and a leather jacket and bold looks centered around aviator glasses. Sicheng was really something. Something kind, funny, and generous if he was willing to give Taeyong this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Taeyong snuggled down a little more and closed his eyes before he realized it, thinking all sorts of gratitude for the other.

Once soft snoring started to come from Taeyong, Sicheng locked up his phone again and returned it to his pocket. His head turned, settling on top of Taeyong’s in something gentle and probably a little intimate given the space and Sicheng’s public persona. He couldn’t find it in him to care, though, and nuzzled down further instead. 

“Right in front of me?” Yuta, returning from caring for another customer, scrunched his nose in jest. “How rude. You don’t usually take to anyone like that.”

“Taeyong isn’t just anyone,” Sicheng said rather matter-of-factly. He turned, lips pressing into soft blue hairs in a way that was somehow both intentional and unintentional all in one go. He took in a soft breath and gave a little nod in confidence before turning back towards Yuta. “I know that for sure. Soon, the rest of the world will see it too.”

[⌜Settle down⌟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329272/chapters/59617528)

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🐇

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[⌜Carry on...⌟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329272/chapters/59617942)  
  
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	2. The March Hare: Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So you've chosen The March Hare? Here's how Taeyong and Sicheng's story goes...

Sicheng was a busy man and yet Taeyong never once felt like he wasn’t accessible to him. Whether it was around Caterpillar and Co.’s office or after hours when Taeyong was itching to take a walk, Sicheng was always there. And if for whatever reason he suddenly wasn’t, then Taeyong could just call or text him to make up for it. 

Whenever Sicheng happened to be away from Jaehyun’s side he’d appear by Taeyong’s, filling the empty space of Taeyong’s small working space. He didn’t have much in terms of tips for Taeyong’s work but he was great for measurements and modeling. A week in and Taeyong already had a whole top tailored to Sicheng’s body. 

He beamed over his design brought to life, asking, “Are you sure you won’t model again?”

Sicheng let out a hum, arms still out so Taeyong could pin down the changes he wanted to make to the sleeves. “Modeling is so troublesome.”

“Hey!” Taeyong returned around the pins he’d just placed into his mouth. 

Sicheng chuckled. “It’s so easy to get under your skin.” 

Taeyong would whine again but he chose to pout instead. He knew that would get Sicheng much better. And just like he hoped, the blonde before him started to blush. 

He cleared his throat and turned away. “Cute.”

“Model for me when we’re done.” Taeyong tried again, more direct this time, now that the pins were out of his mouth. “It looks so good on you and I feel like your followers would like to see you come back.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sicheng said the first night. When Taeyong asked again three days later he gave a much different answer. An exchange. “How about I model for you _if_ you appear in my photos wearing a matching outfit.”

Taeyong’s face lit up. The excitement was almost palpable between them-- until it dawned on Taeyong that he’d have to make another outfit in order to make that happen.

But that’s exactly what he did. Once he finished the outfit accidentally made for Sicheng Taeyong finalized his pattern and banged out another, complimentary piece. The bottoms on Sicheng’s garment were long and flowy, all the way down to his ankles with slits running up the leg. Taeyong kept the concept of the slits for his own sleeves but he likes tighter pants (or, even better, no pants at all) so that part of his own outfit was much shorter and more fitted to the shape of his body. 

“Why is mine white when yours is red?” Sicheng asked as they folded each piece carefully to pack. 

“Why?” Taeyong looked over and tilted his head. “Isn’t white your favorite color?”

“I-- uh, it is. But…” Sicheng didn’t like being caught looking flustered so he turned away. 

Taeyong wasn’t going to let him off that easily. He hopped across the small space between them and tried to peer around and look at him. “But?”

Sicheng cleared his throat and straightened. “It’s very kind of you to make me an outfit in my favorite color. Th-thank you Taeyong.” 

Taeyong stepped back and beamed. “My pleasure.” 

Sicheng picked their photoshoot location, branding it a “surprise” for Taeyong. In return for all his hard work on the garments, Sicheng wasn’t going to make him spend his free time Googling locations around a city that Sicheng already knew by heart. But they weren’t actually going to be in the city. In fact, as the black company car turned and descended underneath a tunnel, Taeyong suddenly had no idea where they were going. He peered out through the rear window into nothing by lamp-illuminated concrete and the headlights of other cars. Sicheng’s hand fell on the one Taeyong had placed between them. 

“Excited?”

Taeyong nodded and added, “Curious.”

“This is why you fit in with the rest of us so well, huh? We’ll be there soon.”

Taeyong didn’t fully understand but he smiled all the same. 

He was surprised when they emerged into a smaller city, having expected something more like wilderness. That piqued Taeyong’s interest even more. 

The car turned and started to slow as they approached a backroad branching out into some alleyways. Smooth street had given way to bumpy gravel and while Taeyong was looking around to take all the details in Sicheng seemed focused on...something. 

“Ah!” He exclaimed. “Please pull over here.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s over here?” Taeyong whispered, starting to climb over Sicheng to see if he could find what the other had spotted. 

Sicheng glanced over with a small smirk, Taeyong basically in his lap right now. Slender fingers ran through blue strands before Sicheng’s attention shifted back out the window. “You’ll see.”

Taeyong grabbed their bags from the trunk while Sicheng gave the driver a time estimate for when they’d be done. Then he waved Taeyong over. “This way.”

Taeyong had put a bit of a fairy tale, fantasy vibe into his outfits, especially in the masks he’d crafted last minute, but the gray brick buildings almost seemed a little too plain for the loose vision that Taeyong had in his head. He also kept getting lost taking in the details of stone built archways and little paths that extended from already small alleyways. Eventually Sicheng turned them down one and after a few minutes more they finally stepped out into an open field. Patchy, green grass extended from the little segment of small buildings all the way to an overpass that Taeyong hadn’t remembered seeing on their drive in. 

“What do you think?” Sicheng glanced over to ask. “I was thinking the green could be nice for some wide shots and then we could do close ups against the graffiti on the concrete over there.” 

“It’s perfect.” Taeyong squinted until he spotted a pair of spray painted angel wings, and then he all but jumped up into the air. “I love it!”

Clapping his hands together once, Sicheng’s smile widened. “I’m so pleased to hear it. I wanted to bring you to the best I could so, well, you already said you love it. That’s all the matters. Come on, shall we get changed?”

Taeyong never pegged Sicheng as someone who would strip out in the open. Though he guessed he also never thought he’d see the March Hare in anything other than a tailored suit, and that hadn’t been the case these days between Taeyong’s outfit fittings or the sweatpants he wore to bed at night. Sicheng seemed to pay no mind to their exposure--even if it seemed like they were pretty far away from any activity--pulling off his tie, undoing his gloves, then slipping off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. Taeyong had far less to remove, and he knew he should get on it instead of staring but… just another second.

Soon enough, the bags they brought were filled with the clothes they had worn. Sicheng had also pulled out a tripod and his camera and was busy setting them up while Taeyong adjusted the laces that ran corset style up his front and tied a bow around his neck. He took to brushing fibers off of his wire based mask until Sicheng waved him over.

“Why didn’t you ask someone to photograph?” Taeyong asked with a gentle tilt of his head.

“You know.” Sicheng leaned into the viewfinder to check his focus one more time. “I didn’t even think about it. I guess I’m just used to being solo.”

“Well… at least you’re not totally solo today?”

“Mhm.” Sicheng straightened again and held out his hand. “I think that’s why this will be my best shoot yet.” 

They took about an hour’s worth of photos out in the field before moving towards the underpass. “Since the ground is uneven and we’ll be going for more close ups, I don’t know how many duo shots we can take over here,” Sicheng said, pushing his bunny shaped mask up and away from his eyes so he could look at their current shots. “But I’ll definitely try so we can get a few more photos of this outfit you made.”

“What if, uh, what if I took photos of you?” Taeyong chimed in, feeling a little more sheepish and far more blushy than he really wanted to. “I don’t know if they’ll turn out well, but you can just not put them up anywhere if they don’t?”

Sicheng raised his brow and smiled. Whatever he was thinking--whether it was words to build Taeyong up or to tease him--he didn’t let on. Instead he replied, “Sure, let’s try it.”

🐇

“I want to see, I want to see!” Taeyong pestered, bouncing on the balls of his feet as they made their way back through a now streetlamp lit path.

“When they’re edited,” Sicheng cooed back, patting Taeyong’s cheek cheekily. 

“But that could take forever,” Taeyong groaned. “At least let me look at them in the car.”

“Mmm… maybe.” 

But Sicheng didn’t. He threw the camera into a bag, and the bag into a trunk, and insisted there was no way to retrieve either. So Taeyong waited begrudgingly until the first still went up onto an Instagram account that had been dormant for over a year.

He hadn’t even known, actually, until Yuta texted him.

_Is that YOU on Dong Sicheng’s Instagram?!_

Taeyong had never opened an app faster in his life than that moment. 

_It is!_ He shot back. It was! Now he had to really look at it. He pinched his index and thumb on the screen to enhance the image as far as it could possibly go. It was hard to see their faces but the outlines of the masks and the billows of the fabric in the wind was just about everything Taeyong could’ve asked for from a shoot featuring his fashion. Even better, written in the comments was nothing more than a simple “Designed By Dormouse.” He blushed.

The next day two more photos went up: another wide shot that showed the side profiles of Taeyong’s look while Sicheng faced him at about three-quarters, his arm on Taeyong’s shoulder, as well as one of their close up ones. Actually, not theirs exactly; it was one of the close ups Taeyong had taken of Sicheng. 

The rest went up daily, everything from solo shots to even a few so-called “behind the scenes” ones where they ended up laughing hard enough until one of them doubled over. Taeyong truly loved every single one, as did Sicheng’s fans. His follow count seemed to double in under a week. 

“Welcome back, Mr. M Hare,” Yuta smirked across the bar. 

Sicheng helped Taeyong onto his stool first and then took the one next to him. He gave Yuta a blank look. “Did I go somewhere?”

“Maybe I should specify. That ‘M’ stands for model.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Sicheng drew out the sound, putting on airs as if he only just realized what Yuta was talking about. He gave a one shoulder shrug. “That? Just a little favor for my new favorite fashion designer.”

“Those are bold words from someone who works for the Mad Hatter. Has Jaehyun heard you say that?”

“No, and I don’t care if he does,” Sicheng ‘humph’d.’ “I’m allowed to like what I like.”

“A lot of us have been wondering about ‘what you like,’” Yuta’s wide eyes seemed to grow wider. He rested his elbow on top of the counter and leaned in coyly. “Care to share with your favorite bartender?”

“Pass,” Sicheng deadpanned but when he swung around to face a giggling Taeyong every inch of him softened. “What would you like to drink tonight?”

Taeyong made his order, phone out at the ready for pictures, and Sicheng opted for something a lot less Insta-worthy, but it was Yuta who won for best photo that night. Sweet, simple Taeyong could barely handle half of the alcohol in his tall milkshake mug, especially not with all the sugar that rushed it through his system. That was expected at this point, but tonight even Sicheng seemed a little swayed by his own drink-- or maybe he was just flushed with the way their blue-haired friend seemed to melt all over him. 

“Taeyong… Taeyong,” Sicheng whispered, tapping his cheek. “You okay?”

Taeyong muttered something incoherent then smiled and nuzzled warmly into Sicheng’s touch. Sicheng gave a soft snort. “Silly. Should we get you home? Here?” One hand worked to keep Taeyong steady, the other retrieved his wallet and handed his card over, but as he lifted Taeyong’s head again he was surprised when candy coated lips latched onto his own. 

He was never one to be public about, well, anything, but with Taeyong being this sweet he figured he could just… indulge them both, for a moment. And Yuta caught that, quick as a whip, with the camera of his phone. He would keep that for himself though, snickering as he came back with the check. “No fair,” he whined, jolting Sicheng back to reality. He handed the card back as it came. “I can’t charge you for a _date._ What kind of man would I be then?”

“D-date?” Sicheng nearly choked. He quickly glanced away, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie. “It’s no such thing.”

“Oh?” Yuta flashed his photo. “You never struck me as the type to just kiss pretty boys,” he pouted. “Otherwise you’d have to have given in to me by now.”

“I--... this…” 

“I’m not going to show anyone.” In fact, Yuta took his phone back and deleted the photo from all folders on his phone. “Just admit it and I’ll let you go.”

Sicheng sighed and then smiled, looking to Taeyong as he snuggled up even closer. That was all Yuta needed as his answer.

“Date’s on me,” he put Sicheng’s card in his hand and grabbed their cups from them. “Have a good night~”

_-End-_


	3. The Mad Hatter

Coming out of his slumber, Taeyong let out a low groan, rolling onto his other side and then to his stomach and smushing his face into his pillow. The bunk bed creaked beneath him and it took him a second to register: 1) it was a new morning, and 2) he was back at the hostel.

_Oh._

Taeyong shot up quickly— a little too quickly, scraping the top of his head against the ceiling. Huffing a quiet “Ow,” and rubbing the top of his head, Taeyong tapped around for his things. Today would mark the only day that he was happy to be in day clothes on top of his bed (and mostly because that bed wasn’t his). Finding his wallet and phone in each of the pockets was no problem and _whew_ thank goodness everything was still on him. Not that he didn’t trust Sicheng just— Oh. Sicheng.

Taeyong pulled his phone into his palm, whining when he saw it at a black screen, indicating 0% battery, and had to scramble to find his charger and a usable outlet. As it booted up a few texts popped onto his phone: the expected midweek morning check-in from his mother, one from Sicheng confirming that he would be around the following morning to take him to work and wishing him a good night, and one from a number marked simply as “YT” saying _“I’ve never seen someone go down so quick. You’re amazing, kitten._

He’d...have to think about that later.

For now, he opened his text thread with Sicheng and read the few other messages from the night, telling Taeyong to get a lot of rest and drink water. 

_Thanks for taking me back._ He sent with a little bit of shame. _I hope I didn’t ruin your night._

Why did Sicheng reply so quickly… _On the contrary! It was pretty cute. I guess I must have worn you out ;)_

Taeyong’s face flushed to a red so dark he was grateful that no one was around (or cared enough) to see it.

Another message came to his phone: _I hope you’re doing alright this morning. I’ll see you in 45 minutes._

_I’m fine! Probably thanks to you. I’ll see you then._

A rushed shower and another round of flinging through his clothes later, Taeyong was waiting at the entrance with his hands fidgeting in the pockets of an outfit he was far less proud of than yesterday’s, but would (hopefully) do the job of getting him through his first day. He wore his beanie today for good luck.

Shifting his weight between his feet, a noise from his stomach reminded him that he meant to grab something from the breakfast bar, and before he could pivot and run inside the sleek black of Sicheng’s car caught his sight and rooted him back in place. Guess he could eat at lunch? But when he opened the scent of sweet pastries hit his senses hard, Sicheng sitting there with a small brown box wrapped in a thin ribbon on his lap. 

“What’re these?” Taeyong asked as he slipped inside, not fully sure that he wasn’t drooling over the surprise.

“Breakfast. I thought it’d be a nice way to start the day.” Thin fingers delicately unwrapped the ribbon and opened up the lid revealing a nice array of croissants, some strawberry filled and some plain, a few chocolate frosted doughnuts, and a small array of other treats “Those,” he pointed to a small stack of scones in the corner, “are for Jaehyun, but the rest are yours to pick from.”

“Sicheng, you spoil me.” Taeyong would’ve suppressed his giggle but grabbing the strawberry croissant was much more important to him. 

“I do what I can,” the blonde hummed, looking proud (if not a little smug). “I’d say don’t get used to it, but we’re on a bit of a tight schedule and you’re really saving us, so maybe expect to be treated like a prince a little bit longer.” 

“I’m...saving you?” Taeyong asked around a mouthful of sweets. 

“It’s a long story that you don’t really need to concern yourself with. We just needed something to really steal the show at this year’s WWFS.”

Taeyong nodded slowly, not fully convinced he could do that and it was obvious Sicheng could tell but he seemed unbothered. “Trust me,” was all he said. “I’m good at what I do.” 

_What do you do?_ Taeyong thought about asking yet again but let it go. Sicheng was a man of mystery and if Taeyong had learned anything in their short time together it was that he liked it that way.

Even without the darkened sky acting as a backdrop to the illuminated actions happening inside Caterpillar and Co. Taeyong couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of the building. Now he could admire more of its outside, painted in half red half white and accented around the doors and windows in gold (were those Jaehyun’s favorite colors?). Walking through the halls was no less awe striking, despite the fact that the energy around him was still dragging with early morning sluggishness. 

“Maybe we should give them pastries too.” He wondered under his breath. 

“Only after Jaehyun gets his pick. But don’t worry, there’s usually something sweet in the kitchen for everyone to pick at. I’ll show you there later. Boss wants to see you now.”

Boss. Jaehyun. Once again Taeyong was going from the front entrance to the Mad Hatter’s den and it made his head spin just as quickly as it had the previous afternoon. Taeyong still buzzed with anxiety, despite taking already somewhat familiar steps through lavish double doors. As expected, Jaehyun was dressed impeccably in a white, ruffled collar shirt french tucked into nice, fitted slacks. Taeyong was rather let down to see that he, once again, wasn’t wearing a hat but today he did boast gold rimmed spectacles attached to a ruby studded chain around his neck. Although far more casual than when they met, it still made Taeyong feel rather drab in his ripped jeans and oversized, though cinched at the waist, shirt. 

“Good morning,” he called over to them both though he quickly shifted his attention to Sicheng and the box in his arms. “Perfect. I am starving.”

“I know,” his assistant chuckled. “You never eat until someone comes and forces food into your mouth. If it was up to you your diet would consist only of tea.”

“Not true,” Jaehyun replied indignantly, cheeks now half stuffed with a scone. 

“Make sure you swallow before taking measurements. Taeyong doesn’t need you spitting on him!” Sicheng was already back at the door. “Taeyong I’ll see you closer to lunch.”

“O-okay, bye.” He tried to wave but the other was already gone. “So quick.”

“He likes to move fast. I swear though he’s working all the time. Though, I guess I can’t complain about that since his work helps me. When this month is over we’ll take a vacation.” 

“That sounds nice.” Taeyong wasn’t sure if Jaehyun’s musings were meant for him to reply to but he did so anyway. “I’m sure after WWFS everyone needs a break.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Jaehyun chuckled, dimples poking into his cheeks. “Hm, but I guess you will now. Shall we get started? I know we took casual measurements yesterday but this time I need to do it properly so I can make you the best fitting outfit. Would you mind stripping down for me?”

“Right,” Taeyong tried hard not to stammer. This was protocol, not weird at all, and Taeyong knew how clothing and measurements worked. (Jaehyun was just so handsome it was hard not to get at least a little flustered). Shaky hands grabbed for his belt, slowly undoing the clasp and rolling it up loosely. He set it down on the edge of the desk next to him before going for the hem of his shirt. It peeled over his head easily at first and then snagged the top of his beanie, leaving Taeyong shaggy headed and bare chested before the other. Jaehyun chuckled. 

“Here, I’ve got you,” He knelt down for the hat and though Taeyong extended a hand to accept it instead opted for slipping back onto Taeyong’s head. 

“Thanks,” Taeyong, unable to keep the surprise from his face, stammered. 

“No problem. Pants now, please.”

Right. Taeyong put his top next to his belt and quickly stepped from his jeans. Often he dressed to hide his thin, and some might say frail, form so he couldn’t help worrying that maybe he’d mislead Sicheng and Jaehyun would grow displeased. On the contrary, though, Jaehyun’s looked over Taeyong thoughtfully, one finger tapping at his cheek. 

“There’s a lot we can do with you,” he said finally, if not a little triumphantly. He pulled his tape measurer from his back pocket and quickly took note of Taeyong’s arms, waist, and torso, bust, and shoulder width, humming out comments like “Oh broad,” and “This is good.” Only after he finished with the top half of Taeyong’s body did he turn to tap things onto his phone and it dawned on Taeyong that Sicheng wasn’t here or helping him. 

“Did you need me to remember numbers?”

“Oh no, I’ve got them all,” Jaehyun replied with a wave of his hand. “I’m a bit of a genius after all.”

_Or maybe just a little mad,_ Taeyong couldn’t help but think. 

“Plus we’re just comparing them to what was taken yesterday. Hardly a problem. Now,” he turned back and grinned, snapping the tape like one would a whip, “for the rest of you.” 

Watching Jaehyun take to a knee, Taeyong had a thought he felt important to share. “You should probably know I have some issues with my, uh, skin.”

“Issues?” Jaehyun pulled back a bit so that their eyes could meet. He looked so genuine in his concern, so much more than was probably warranted, that Taeyong blushed and felt compelled to apologize for it. They’d known each other for no time at all and yet Jaehyun struck Taeyong as someone he didn’t want to feel sad. More than that, someone he never wanted to let down (he’d have to work hard at this modeling gig). 

“Just… sensitivities and such. I can’t wear all fabrics.”

“Skin sensitivities? Oh boy,” He grinned and cracked his knuckles. “I love a challenge!”

Challenge was a word for it, and one that made Taeyong feel less like a freak about his condition. So when Jaehyun smiled Taeyong just returned it and let him continue on with his work. 

Having grown cold in the office between when they’d started and when Jaehyun seemed to be finnicking with getting the inseam of his pants, Taeyong lifted an arm to wrap across his chest and around himself, blocking the bits of himself that had grown stiff in response and made him embarrassed, all while trying to contain any shivering. That probably wouldn’t help Jaehyun. 

“You poor thing,” the other man laughed, straightening finally and walking back to his desk so he could grab Taeyong’s shirt. “Even this might not be enough to keep you warm from the way you’re shaking right now.”

“I’m not shaking,” Taeyong retorted, nearly pouting though he hid that by turning away and pulling his shirt over his head. “I’m okay.”

“Are you?” Jaehyun questioned back. While Taeyong was pulling up his pants again he went off to rummage through a closet at the opposite wall. “Here we go.” Taeyong tilted his head, only understanding when a sudden heavy feeling of extra cloth fell onto his shoulders. And even then it didn’t clear up the confusion of why Jaehyun just gave him a jacket?

“Can’t have our star catching a cold,” was the only response he received. Hands still on Taeyong’s shoulders, Jaehyun steered his body closer to the desk and added on, “Take a seat if you’d like.”

Taeyong cocked a brow, repeating “Seat?” and thinking surely Jaehyun couldn’t just mean on top of the desk but as he started to shuffle papers and pens aside, rather than pull out the seat tucked away behind it, Taeyong figured he must not have much another choice. Clearing his throat a bit he hoisted himself up on top of it.

Jaehyun folded his arms and leaned against the wall across from him. “As you probably know we have a number of designers who contribute to the Caterpillar and Co. brand. You may not have seen too many of them because around this time they’re usually holed up in their offices and huddled over sewing machines. Every one of them is making something for the show for a specific model that they’ve chosen. If, you know, something strikes us all as superior we might make alterations to it to fit who we want to be our final runway model--which is you, if I didn’t make that clear.”

“R-right. Wait…” Taeyong pointed to himself. “I’m that?”

“I feel like we’ve made mention of this time and time again, my friend.” But rather than being scolding or patronizing (like Taeyong expected, to be quite honest) Jaehyun was calm; charming even. “You’re our show stopper. I’m going to do my best to make an outfit that suits you the absolute best but I won’t be surprised if someone else creates something better. It’s kind of an inter-office competition, everyone takes it seriously. Do you know the difference though, between me and them?” 

Taeyong tried to think up his answer but the paced way Jaehyun approached him, pressing his palm against his desk and leaning in close, startled him. 

“Uhm, I mean. You _are_ the Mad Hatter.”

Jaehyun grinned. “Precisely. _And_ I’m making this custom to you, so it’s sure to win out. I don’t just mean sizes, mind you. Alterations are easy, anyone can do them. I’m talking about essence. I’ll make you the best outfit you’ve ever worn Lee Taeyong. I can promise you that.” 

A big promise! Taeyong would be lying if he said it didn’t pique his interest and make his eyes sparkle. The anticipation left him buzzing-- but more than that, the back of Jaehyun’s hand that suddenly trailed over his cheek (in a flash so quick Taeyong almost felt like it hadn’t happened at all). His own hand rose, fingers touching the spot where the press of Jaehyun’s skin still lingered. All he could do was nod, dumbfounded as he was in that moment. That seemed to please Jaehyun greatly.

“When Sicheng told me you were cute he really didn’t do you justice.”

“Wh-what?” 

That smile on Jaehyun’s lips widened even more.

“I need to kick you out in a little bit for some investor meetings but I wanted to show you something first. Come.” 

Taeyong slipped from the desk in time with the wave of Jaehyun’s hand and followed him out of the office and down a rather narrow hall. He was noticing how Jaehyun used his hands for speaking rather deliberately. They didn’t just wave around randomly within his sentences, instead he used his motions to punctuate certain words. (Fascinating…) The way they were headed felt far less lavish than most of what Taeyong had seen so far. A little less glitzy and a little more industrious. Peeking into the rooms that left their doors open ajar revealed designer after designer sewing pleats, linking chains, crafting accessories. Some were going over artist renders with their counterparts to compare, others were starting from scratch. It really took a team to build an empire-- Taeyong knew this in theory, he just hadn’t expected to be so struck seeing it in practice. He used to think _I want to do it all_ but even the chance to collaborate felt like a dream turned true. Sharing passion with the people around him wasn’t something that had happened since-- well, those were just fond memories now. 

This, walking through Caterpillar and Co. to a room the Mad Hatter had set up for Taeyong himself, was now. 

“It should be stocked with everything you need,” Jaehyun explained, showing everything from the sewing machine to a whole drawer filled with pens. “I know it’s not a large space and I would’ve liked to have given you better. But with the short notice--”

“It’s perfect,” Taeyong cut in. “It’s everything I want. More than I could’ve wanted. I promise, it’s perfect.” 

Jaehyun’s expression seemed to soften far beyond the smirking and the chuckles into something Taeyong hadn’t expected. “I’m glad,” was all he said before he pat Taeyong’s shoulder and excused himself for his meetings. 

Left to his own devices Taeyong suddenly felt a little...lost. His first five days in the city had been so systematic-- wake up, skip breakfast, hit as many indie designers as possible, buy dinner, head to the hostel-- and these last two days had been a whirlwind of, just, things that Taeyong was still in the midst of processing. There was silence now, and not just the kind caused by resting his head on a pillow to sleep. He didn’t know how to handle it. 

He let out a slow breath first then drummed his nails against the whitewashed wood of his new desk. Without any tasks assigned to him he could just be...free. Design. Designing was what he needed to do but it occurred to him that for the first time in honest to God years he _forgot his notebook._ “How?” Taeyong said to no one, patting around his body as if that would give him an answer. It was always on him, always in his bag. Suddenly he remembered he’d forgotten to take his bag, what with his wallet and phone already in his pockets. Now that he thought about it, had he even had it when returning from the bar? Taeyong felt more fraught than he would’ve liked over what was essentially faux leather bound paper but those drawings were his life’s work, his passion on paper. How could he have been so stupid?

A buzz from his phone dashed his mental assault on himself and gave him a saving grace. Sicheng. Taeyong swiped open his phone. Sicheng could have his answers.

_How’re you holding up? I’ll be back to show you around the dining and rec areas of the office in a little less than an hour!_

_Take your time!_  
_Uhm, by the way, do you happen to know where my bag is?_

It’d either go so well for him, giving him his peace of mind that he hadn’t lost his most treasured possession, or embarrass him if Sicheng left Taeyong stranded by having no idea of where it might be. 

_I remember seeing it at the bar._

_Ah I’m sorry! I meant to grab it from the hook under the counter and I must have forgotten to. Don’t worry about it, Yuta is very good with lost and found items. I can text him if you like._

Yuta… Yuta… Oh! The bartender with the bright grin. Of course! Taeyong didn’t remember much beyond meeting him and watching him and Sicheng flirt; though Sicheng seemed far more keen to make fun of him than to make out with him. Taeyong started typing out his please and thank you for Sicheng checking in with it dawned on him that maybe that mysterious text message was from none other than the Kitten’s Grin owner himself. It would at least explain the nickname Taeyong puzzled over earlier that morning. 

_I got it!_ he told Sicheng before swapping threads. 

Yuta, to his surprise, responded immediately. 

_It’s here. No worries, Kitten~_  
_Now I can for sure see your pretty face again. Come back soon, okay?_

Taeyong would go right now if he could. But, stuck without many transportation options at his disposal and the Mad Hatter and the March Hare to hold himself accountable to, he at least found relief in that it was retrievable even if he couldn’t go now. Now he just needed to shuffle those thoughts to the side and get started on something that warranted taking up such a nice space. 

Paper and pens in front of him, Taeyong felt...blank. It was only his first day, he had to remind himself, and this wasn’t even his main job. Nothing to worry about, truly. It’d just be nice to draw...nice to do something other than listen to the thoughts in his head that challenged his abilities and passions and reasons for being there. 

“Knock Knock.” Sicheng, once again (Bless his heart) sparing him once again from his own onslaught of awful thoughts. Taeyong jumped to his feet gratefully. “Let me give you a proper tour!”

🐇

Day three was all about practice.

Jaehyun set a pair of white stiletto boots in front of Taeyong, their tops flopped over from the sheer height they would reach up to. Taeyong approached them cautiously. 

“You want me in these?”

“I think they’ll be nice staples for the piece I have in mind,” Jaehyun hardly bat an eye at Taeyong’s hesitation. “Do they fit?”

They did, their tops rested just above his knees and hugged snuggly despite his thin thighs, though Taeyong wobbled gracelessly as he tried to stand in them. His hand fell back onto the desk for added stabilization. 

Jaehyun clapped his hands together. “Good! Now let’s see your walk.”

“Walk?” Taeyong didn’t have one of those. Well, more than that he just didn’t know how; he never had on heels before. He should’ve spent the afternoon studying runway walks rather than mulling over blank pieces of paper that never got filled, or thinking about the notebook he’d idiotically left behind. “Uhm...Can you show me how?”

“Sure,” Jaehyun chuckled. “Sicheng, go ahead.”

“Me? I believe he asked you Mr. Hatter.” 

“But you’re so much better at it. Will you please?” He drew out that last word in something weirdly mixed between sweet and sarcastic. 

Sicheng merely rolled his eyes. “As you wish, Boss.” 

But then something switched inside of him. Rolling his shoulders back, his expression went from something soft, though cunning, to focused and sharp. His eyes looked like they could pierce through glass but the slight quirk at the corner of his lips gave him an approachable confidence. The type of confidence that said, ‘I want to be near you so I can become you.’ He walked with grace--one foot over the other, back straight, head cocked, and chin pointed; slow and steady and well paced to an eight count in his head. At the end of his imaginary runway he shifted his weight, angled his hip, showed off his suit as if it were the nicest piece on display, and then spun seamlessly on his heel to head back Taeyong’s way. When their eyes met Taeyong almost fell over!

Sicheng was so cool…

He spun one more time, a full 360, and then gave a flourish with his bow. “Just like that,” he said as if it were to be the easiest thing in the world. Even if it was just walking, something about the way Sicheng pulled it off had Taeyong feeling rather certain that he...couldn’t.

But he had to start somewhere, especially if he was going to be Jaehyun’s--how had he put it? Oh, right, their “star.” He hoisted himself back onto unstable feet, rooting his heels as much into the carpet as he could. 

“Do your best,” Sicheng called.

“I can’t wait to see,” Jaehyun added.

Putting one foot before another, Taeyong took slow steps, wobbling at every third or fourth or so but trying, oh boy was he trying, to do his best. He realized about halfway across the carpet that although he kept his gaze sharp, he was biting his lip for focus. That wouldn’t do. He freed it quickly but that only led the rest of him to fall apart. His arms shot out from his sides to steady himself, knees buckling until he caught himself before fully face planting into the ground. Ah, this wasn’t good. Taeyong didn’t even want to look back at the other two because he was sure they were either ashamed or second guessing their choices. He hadn’t really settled in or anything, they could get rid of him…

But when he turned he saw only sympathy and maybe a little bit of suppressed laughter.

“Keep going,” Sicheng urged in time with Jaehyun’s nodding. “It’s the heels right? The only way to get better is to practice.”

So Taeyong did. They had him walk up and down the length of Mad Hatter’s office for a total of six full laps until he was no longer threatening to fall on his face (or in one unfortunate instance, fully falling over). He still stuttered a bit, his heels still caught occasionally on the carpet that he was praying would help him balance, and he was still making faces when he found himself starting to struggle, but he could eventually make his way there and back, and that had to be a success, right?

All he’d done was walk but Taeyong felt a little winded, placing his hand on the edge of the desk and bending over a bit just to help him breathe.

“How’re your feet?” Jaehyun asked, all but hoisting Taeyong onto the top of the desk with just a bit of guidance from the touch of his hand.

“They hurt like hell,” Taeyong returned honestly, laughing a bit at his own pain because he didn’t have many other ways to process it.

“First time in heels?” Jaehyun had asked but Sicheng interjected with, “Clearly.” 

“Hey!”

“Is it not?”

“N-no, it is. But at least I tried my best?”

Jaehyun couldn’t help his smile at that--both Taeyong’s insistence and the cute way he conveyed it--dimples and all. He pat Taeyong’s head. “You did. We have time to work on it too so I’m not worried.”

Taeyong let out a huff. “Oof, doing this again.” Though he knew he’d do it as many times as needed to get it perfect. He wouldn’t let them down.

Day four was much of the same as the previous. On day five, they started trying makeup looks between shoe tests and runway training.

Standing in the mirror, with one eye’s worth of makeup coloring the wipe in his hand, Taeyong suddenly paused. Too fixated on deep brown orbs and the shape of his crease and brows. He tilted his head but it only made him feel worse.

“Jaehyun,” he asked after a moment, gaze unwavering from its fixed position on himself. “Are you really sure about this?”

“About what?” The other man asked, coming up behind Taeyong and bracing him on either side with his palms on the vanity. He rested his chin on top of Taeyong’s head teasingly but Taeyong couldn’t find it in him to laugh. 

Jaehyun picked up on the mood shift quickly and removed himself, settling on standing at Taeyong’s side with his hip resting against a drawer. “What is it?” He asked again.

“Me. I just mean.” He paused and took another look at himself. “Isn’t it too much?”

“Taeyong I’m not sure I’m following what you mean. Is what too much?”

“My eyes,” He all but spat the words out. “Aren’t they… aren’t my eyes scary?”

“Taeyong,” Jaehyun said much more gently this time, pulling a hand from where he’d crossed his arms to cup Taeyong’s cheek and break his attention from the mirror so that their eyes could meet. “First, there’s nothing scary about them.”

“No? I--” 

Jaehyun’s finger pressed to his lips, effectively silencing whatever rebuttal he thought to speak.

“Second, they’re one of your most striking features. Your secret weapon.”

Taeyong didn’t understand.

“The runway walk is a battle stage. You need to pull out everything available to you if you want to succeed. To the world it may seem like it's only walking, but to us it’s war. You know that though already.”

“I...guess I do. Or, if anything, it makes sense.” 

“That’s why these eyes of yours are so captivating. No one else has them. The second you look one of the judges dead on it’ll be game over. The perfect love shot. I can see it now.” 

“You think so highly of me even though less than a week ago I was only someone trying to dress well enough outside the venue doors to get inside.”

“Ah, right. The seat fillers,” Jaehyun’s expression seemed to fall for half a second. “Beautiful things on their own won’t be enough to get you an invitation inside. But,” He picked himself back up again and grinned, “We can. And that’s what we’re doing now. You _are_ beautiful, Taeyong, don’t get me wrong. But there’s so much more to you that makes you worth this runway. And I can’t wait to send you into the war.”

“Beautiful. You say that a lot, you know?”

“Hm?” Honest curiosity washed over Jaehyun’s face. He raised a brow. “And what of it?” 

“It’s just-- well, it’s me. I just can’t always believe it.”

“Hm.” Jaehyun paused and hummed and tapped his finger to his cheek. “Is there a way I could help make you believe it?” 

“I… don’t know? I’ve never thought about something like that.” Something like someone else taking on Taeyong’s own self worth. 

“If I had an idea, would you mind if I tried?”

“I guess not?” Taeyong and his uncertainty; his inability to exist with confidence. Honestly it annoyed him sometimes.

But in contrast to Taeyong’s frustration Jaehyun just smiled. “I appreciate it,” he said and then suddenly leaned in until the space between them had shrunk to no more than a centimeter and Jaehyun was asking, “May I?”

“Y-yes?” Idiot. But he couldn’t think on it much longer when the press of their lips sent all thoughts scattering away. The hand Jaehyun had brought from Taeyong’s chin to his own cheek was now holding Taeyong in place, keeping him loosely still while their lips slid together. Taeyong was no stranger to this--mostly random classmates connecting over secret online forums and kissing on the roof or behind school buildings--but something about Jaehyun was different. It was practiced and sensual and made Taeyong moan into his mouth before he even realized it (though that was probably a mix of both the other’s skill and just how attracted Taeyong had been to him since the second he stepped into his office). His hand fell onto Jaehyun’s shoulder and his fingers curled a little bit to hold them both in place. 

He liked this.

But when they broke off with a gasp Taeyong had to ask, “Is this okay? You and I?”

“If you’re okay with it then it’s okay. If you’re not, I’ll stop,” His thumb swept over the apple of Taeyong’s cheek. “Please don’t think any of this affects our work together. You can say no and still be my star.”

“No.” Taeyong shook his head. “I mean, I don’t want to say no.” His tongue dragged over his bottom lip before he added, “I’d like to kiss you again.”

Jaehyun’s eyes creased. Smiling lips parted but only a huff of air managed to make it out. “So cute,” he chuckled and then leaned in again. 

All of a sudden Taeyong was staying in the office later and later. First it was just to feel the vibe of ‘office life,’ the achy feel of crunch time and deadlines. He, himself, was using the added time to expand on his personal project. The later hours allowed him ample opportunity to rummage through fabric and embellishment scraps without worrying about stepping on anyone else’s toes. By the time the sun went down, most of those who stayed were designers sweating over their sewing machines and their assistants running around on their behalf. Besides them, it was quiet. Sometimes a little too quiet, but whenever Taeyong felt it too much Jaehyun always seemed to sweep in and pull his mind away from it all. 

“How’s it going?” He called from the doorway, one hand on the wall and the other on his hip. 

“Ah, fine,” Taeyong stammered, quickly pulling his work into his arms.

“It feels like you’re trying to hide this from me.”

That’s because Taeyong was. He was far too shy to let the Mad Hatter see his measly design ideas. Still, Jaehyun stepped closer, peered over Taeyong’s shoulder, and eventually linked his fingers with Taeyong’s so that he could pull his arms away. A cheap move.

“No fair.” Taeyong relented easily but that didn’t mean he wasn’t pouting.

“I want to see. You’ve been working so late.”

_That’s because of you._ Because if he waited around long enough Jaehyun would always eventually make his way to Taeyong, and they would tease and giggle and sometimes cuddle. It helped him with his work but Taeyong wasn’t so naive to be blind to what he was doing. He stayed late for Jaehyun. He’d just _never_ say that to Jaehyun’s face.

First, Jaehyun gathered the measured and pencil marked fabric Taeyong had been preparing to cut and sew the next day into his arms and against his chest. Beneath the pile sat his original sketches, fully rendered in splashes of bright colors and silver accents. He felt good about it, especially the sheer lace that made up most of the coverage on the torso starting from a triangle point just below the navel and meeting at a point in the high collar. The rest remained fitted around the rest of the chest and back. Taeyong preferred fitted styles when it came to his own designing and his outfits reflected that, despite the fact that he wore such baggie things on a day to day basis. But then, he loved to accentuate the tightness with big poofs at shoulders or hips. In this case, it came in the form of a half cage skirt and big bows perched on each side. He was still playing around with the bottom part, but, inspired by Jaehyun’s knee high heeled boots, Taeyong felt sure about his idea for it; loving how from the tightly shaped torso were form fitting bottoms that melted into the shape of the shoes and bore diamond shaped cuts in the knees. It was simplistic but welcomed a lot of embellishment. That’s how he liked to work. 

And yet, despite his pride in his own piece, he found himself too worried to steal a look at Jaehyun’s face. Taeyong was an amateur who knew his place. He couldn’t expect his first ‘real’ design to be praiseworthy. So then, when Jaehyun did part his lips and point out all his favorite parts it left Taeyong a little speechless. 

“I have some thoughts. Can I share them?”

Still dumbstruck, Taeyong barely managed a nod before Jaehyun’s hand had snatched up his own with a pencil between his fingers and started to guide Taeyong’s writing through his own suggestions. “These are just my ideas,” He reminded at the end. “Nothing you need to take if it doesn’t feel right to you. Fashion is subjective and I think where you’re at is rather wonderful.” 

“Do you?”

“Absolutely, would I ever lie to you?”

Taeyong’s cheeks flushed while he shook his head ‘no.’ Jaehyun was very kind and even more honest. 

Jaehyun also still hadn’t let go of his hand.

“I’ll go over your suggestions tomorrow.” And probably make all the recommended changes. Jaehyun was the expert after all. “Unless you have more work you’re doing tonight? I stick around if that’s the case.”

“No no, no more work. It’s gotten pretty late.” The clock on Taeyong’s locked phone screen confirmed that by flashing 10PM. Jaehyun continued, “I just need to pack up a few things in my office and I’ll be out. Would you like to come with me?”

“Sure,” Taeyong answered before he thought about it, but even if he did take a second to think his answer wouldn’t have changed. As he stood, he started to fold his armful of fabric scraps neatly over his drawings then checked his pockets for his things and grabbed his bag from off the back of his chair so that they could lock up his tiny office. He’d have to text Yuta and thank him again (even if he’d texted him the last 3 nights since retrieving his bag and beloved sketchbook). Hopefully he wouldn’t mind another _Thank you again! :)_ And even more hopefully, maybe he’d get a _No problem, Kitten~_ back again.

For now, it’d become Taeyong’s habit to perch himself on the cleanest part of Jaehyun’s desk. He’d always considered himself particularly cat-like and the place only had the one chair that hardly seemed to move from its tucked in spot. It all just fit into place. Plus up here he could better watch as Jaehyun shuffled from corner to corner in his office, stacking papers here and adjusting mannequins there. He never seemed rushed or stressed just a little, what’s the word for it, ‘mad’ in his work; like things had to be a certain way or, maybe more appropriately, a certain disarray. 

“Do you have everything?” Taeyong asked when Jaehyun went to get his coat.

“Just about,” the brunette hummed. “I think I’m missing just one thing.”

“What’s that?” He watched Jaehyun approach him. Taeyong’s head tilted to the side just enough that his glasses started to slip down his nose. Jaehyun then beat him to push them back up into place. He leaned down and turned his own head to match Taeyong’s. “Jaehyun?” Taeyong asked again.

“A kiss. Can I?” 

Taeyong didn’t need to answer this time, though. He leaned in, eyes slipping half shut, and fulfilled Jaehyun’s question with the response they both wanted. It’d become pretty common, Taeyong felt. He would stay late to wait for Jaehyun, to see when the other would want to steal moments of secrecy for just the two of them. After, he’d offer Taeyong a ride back to his hostel. How could Taeyong lose? 

But tonight there was something else behind the force of Jaehyun’s lips. They’d usually kiss each other silly and call it a day but even Taeyong, who was only as well versed in high school makeout sessions with his childhood crush (and whoever else would let him explore after said crush moved away), could tell something was different. It came in the way Jaehyun’s breath hitched when Taeyong cheekily kissed him first and how he planted his hand around Taeyong’s hip to help hold him in place. He was gripping tighter than usual. Jaehyun’s cheeks turned red in his surprise. Maybe his heart was racing more than usual too? Taeyong placed his hand on his chest to check. 

Yep, just as he thought.

And then Jaehyun did something totally new to their time together. He pushed Taeyong backwards from where they stayed connected at their hips, his one hand lowering him at the hinge of his hip and the other cushioning the back of his head for when it inevitably hit the desk. His own weight fell onto the knee he’d brought up and pressed flush to Taeyong’s thigh and his other leg, extended outward, gave him balance despite the weird position he’d put them in. 

When they broke away Jaehyun nibbled and pulled at his bottom lip.

“Jaehyun?” 

Dark honey eyes stared down at Taeyong. Caught between soft and ready to devour, he could only blink back in surprise. And fuck did this new position of their make his own heart hammer hard in his chest. His fingers curled over Jaehyun’s shirt a little bit. Seemed like they were beating in time. Taeyong called out the Mad Hatter’s name again.

“Right.” Shaking his head out as if he’d been in a trance, Jaehyun gave Taeyong a dimpled smile and whispered, “Sorry. I think I got a bit ahead of myself. Are you uncomfortable?”

He started to pull back but Taeyong’s grip at his chest only tightened. “Wait,” he swallowed slowly. “N-not at all.” 

“Yeah?” Jaehyun lit up in that moment, relieved and excited all in one go. He pulled his hand from Taeyong’s side to walk his fingers up the outside of Taeyong’s shirt, stopping just at the opening of his collar. “Can I keep going, then?”

“Please.”

Jaehyun’s hand slipped beneath his shirt, thumbing at his collarbone slowly while plush lips went back to explore Taeyong’s own. A little lost with what to do with his own hands, Taeyong settled on cupping Jaehyun’s sharp jaw and soft cheeks, holding as gently as his body was being touched. 

He’d never really gone this far before. And truth be told he wasn’t sure when he and Jaehyun reached a point that could lead them to this--though, to that point he also hadn’t realized they’d gotten somewhere that let them casually kiss in the privacy of Jaehyun’s office space. It felt surreal, like a dream he’d fallen into. Tripping deep into a rabbit’s hole, maybe just in time for tea?

But he was happy. _Fuck_ he was so happy. Like this, pressed flush to the desk with such a beautiful, talented, kind, considerate (the list went on and on) man above him, tending to him, taking care of him. 

Jaehyun’s tongue slid along the seam of Taeyong’s lips, asking for entrance that he readily gave, and while they danced together Taeyong couldn’t hold back the moan that fell from him. Jaehyun seemed to like that because whatever had caused it in the first place he deliberately did again. The hand at Taeyong’s collar jumped swiftly to the bottom hem of his shirt. He toyed with it a bit, drinking in the feel of the fabric before moving to a warm touch (Jaehyun) on cold skin (Taeyong). Taeyong shivered, goosebumps peppering his stomach in the wake of the movement of Jaehyun’s fingers. God… he was somewhere between hopeful, excited, and needy: knowing what was coming, wanting to be right, and desperate for it to happen.

But Jaehyun diverted at that last second, leaving Taeyong to gasp and wiggle a little in protest. “So cute. Always so cute.” He cooed, giving into the other’s wordless wants with a pinch of his nipple between Jaehyun’s thumb and forefinger. 

Taeyong jolted, gasping a little louder than he’d wanted to. “I was b-born to be cute,” Taeyong added, or maybe corrected, breathlessly despite the way he wanted to only moan from that touch. His chest rose to keen into that touch, his own teeth sinking into the lips that Jaehyun had suddenly abandoned to nip along Taeyong’s jaw. 

He was growing hard now. He adjusted a leg, bending at the knee to give him a bit more grip on the desk (and relieve a bit of the pressure he felt building up in his cock). Jaehyun surprised him with one quick dip of his hips downward just to show he was getting there too. 

“Fuck,” Taeyong gasped, gripped tighter. Jaehyung kept going, kissing further and further down his body until he could suck a secret mark behind Taeyong’s ear. “Hnn…!” 

“Taeyong, you’re so loud,”

“‘M not,” Taeyong whined back. “Or at least… not trying to be…”

“I love it,” Jaehyun rolled the pad of his index finger over the nipple he’d been toying with. “Let me hear more.” 

And Taeyong did just that, slipping in and out of tiny pleasured mewls and loud gasps for air. “Jaehyun… J-Jaehyun,” he panted, trying to find something to do with his hands that would reciprocate all of the wonder he was feeling. He settled on touching Jaehyun’s own chest through his tightly tucked shirt, earning him a smirk and an intrigued brow raise.

Then a knock came on the door.

“Sir?” A voice called. It didn’t sound like Sicheng’s, which was both a blessing and a curse. Taeyong knew he would be comfortable with _only_ that man knowing of their secret time together but also he recognized that he’d never live it down and neither option sounded appealing. That said, only a handful of people ever came to Jaehyun’s office and Taeyong, compromised and half exposed, didn’t know who could be here or what to do about it.

He shot Jaehyun a look that carried and conveyed all of his horror but was met with a strangely calming press of Jaehyun’s finger to his lips and then onto Taeyong’s own. He pulled his hands back slowly and urged Taeyong to hoist himself further onto the desk. At the same time he turned, resting both palms onto the wooden surface and effectively hiding Taeyong with as much of himself as he physically could.

“Yes?” He called.

The door cracked open and one of the intern accessory designers poked her head inside. She bowed to greet him.

Jaehyun smiled back and nodded his head in return. “Can I help you?”

“No. Well, I mean, is everything okay? I thought I heard something coming from your office as I passed so I wanted to check.”

“Oh absolutely!” Jaehyun’s hand waved in front of his face. “You know how things get at this time. Everyone goes just a little mad. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Oh no.” Seemed to Taeyong she was getting flustered too. But that made sense-- Jaehyun’s smile had a certain effect on people (on him, he was people). “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“Not at all. I appreciate you checking on me.”

She gave a pitched sound of agreement and acknowledgment, one more bow, and then shut the door again. 

“Close one,” Jaehyun shot over his shoulder to a Taeyong who had done everything in his power to curl up small and go unseen. 

“It was.”

“I think it might be better if we don’t take another risk like this.”

Taeyong agreed-- or well, he knew he should agree. It was right to agree. It was just that he couldn’t shake away the disappointment in his head and heart that reminded him of how much he wanted this and Jaehyun. He tried not to let that show in his face while Jaehyun continued, “So what if we went to my place instead?”

“Y-your…?” Jaehyun’s apartment? 

“Just a thought,” Jaehyun shrugged and smiled. “We wouldn’t have to worry about anyone interrupting us. And if I had to make a bet I’d say my bed is probably a lot nicer than the top of his desk.”

But they’d shared so much on this desk…-- not the point.

“I, uh,” The words weren’t coming right to Taeyong. They knotted in his brain like headphone wires and stumbled on his tongue.

Jaehyun was quick to hold his hands up before him and between them. “If it’s too soon or too uncomfortable we don’t have to. I just thought I’d offer.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Taeyong managed quickly. “I do want to. I really want to.” He still hadn’t gone fully soft from their moment a few minutes ago. “I just should probably tell you now that I’ve never done anything like this before. I was going to bring it up before we did anything I just, uhm, I don’t know. I wouldn’t want you to go through the effort of bringing me home just to have that fact be upsetting or to change your mind or anything…” Rambling. Taeyong, stop rambling. 

It seemed to bring Jaehyun to a pause, though, and that made Taeyong’s knotted up stomach worry more. He pursed his lips, tapping a finger to his cheek before his whole hand shifted to push through Taeyong’s hair and shift down to cup his cheek. “It’s no problem so long as you don’t mind sharing your first time with me.” 

“Ah! Well… at the risk of sounding like too much,” already Taeyong was sure he was being too much just starting his sentence off like that. He linked his fingers with the ones Jaehyun had rested on his cheek and held him in place. “I can’t think of another person I would want.”

(Okay, maybe there was one but Taeyong hadn’t seen him in a long, long time.)

“Then I’ll get ready to go.” 

Through a labyrinth of hallways from a door near Taeyong’s cubicle that he’d never noticed, they wound their way until reaching a small and hardly filled parking lot. Jaehyun’s car, a unique shade of deep turquoise, stood out from its resting spot in the corner.

“I didn’t know you drove,” Taeyong remarked as he climbed in and settled against the faux leather interior. “Sicheng always takes cars so I just thought.”

“Sicheng doesn’t know _how_ to drive. And he doesn’t want to learn because I spoiled him too much.” 

That pulled laughter to Taeyong’s lips, imagining Sicheng’s refusal to do something so simple to manage. He could picture their spats over it now and suddenly realized how easily Jaehyun seemed to bend to his friend’s will. Sicheng really held all the power, huh?

“Do you drive?” Jaehyun asked, switching the car from park to reverse then placing his hand on the back of Taeyong’s headrest while he peered out the rear window.

“I _can_ drive. Back home. We don’t have or need a car but I learned. I don’t know if I have the confidence to drive in the city, though.”

“I promise you it’s not that rough. But also if you don’t need to do it there’s probably no reason to. Having a car around here is hard.”

And yet Jaehyun had two: the one they were currently in and the one they pulled up next to once they’d arrived. A second passed where Taeyong contemplated asking Jaehyun why he had two of what seemed to be the same car in entirely different colors but then let it go. Things that seemed ‘crazy’ also suited Jaehyun fittingly; Taeyong was working hard to remember that.

Jaehyun gave him a quick warning about potential messiness before flipping on a light switch. Mess may have been an understatement; clothes in varying layers between fancy and casual sprawled out over as many surfaces as seemingly possible. But everything else was well kept-- no food or dish in sight in his kitchen, hardly any dust on his shelves and tables. Taeyong couldn’t help but wonder about the size, and state, of Jaehyun’s closet.

He stepped out of his shoes and followed after the other, watching with a few giggles as he shuffled clothes from here to there and apologized softly. This was the first time Taeyong had seen Jaehyun turn pink all the way to his ears. _So cute,_ he kept to himself.

Considering how lavish the office was, and how many cars rested a ways beneath them, Jaehyun’s apartment was rather tame. The furniture he could see was sleek and black and stood in contrast to the white walls. It was actually the art on the wall that really caught Taeyong’s attention, from a black silhouette of a girl in a petticoat puffed dress to stacks of tea cups and prints of playing cards. Arranged in lightly dispersed patterns, it gave the whole space a rather funky feeling vibe. It felt more fit to Jaehyun.

“Can I get you anything?” Jaehyun, who had slipped into the kitchen adjacent to where Taeyong still stood and admired, called over the slow bubbling of his electric kettle. “Would you like some tea?”

“I’d love some.”

Their night had gone from sweet to spicy to soft and Taeyong’s head reeled a bit from it all. But once he had the warm mug in his hand, inhaling the earthy scent of jasmine green tea tinged with sweetness from the hefty amounts of sugar and honey he’d requested on top, none of it seemed to matter. Taeyong felt calm here, even as their shoulders and thighs pressed once Jaehyun had settled next to him. He felt safe.

He felt a bit like he belonged; right here, pressed into the corner of the arm rest and couch back. 

“I make a damn good milk tea,” Jaehyun bragged over the rim of his own mug. “In the morning I’ll make it for you.”

That word, ‘morning,’ made Taeyong’s cheeks flush. (How nice it was to know that Jaehyun hadn’t forgotten because Taeyong was not so bold as to remind him.) 

“I’d like that,” he returned, finding his eyes trailing down to his drink before he made himself look back at Jaehyun. He met a dimpled smile with one of his own. “I’d like that a lot.”

In between sips of tea slipped sweet and soft kisses until eventually both mugs were abandoned on the coffee table, half emptied and fated to grow cold and untouched for the rest of the night. Jaehyun stopped himself part way through, getting too eager crawling over Taeyong (while Taeyong took fistfuls of Jaehyun’s shirt into his fists in the process), and made the executive decision to move them to his bed. “We were already interrupted once, I don’t want this to happen again.” 

There was a little cringe in Taeyong’s features when they hit the bed in their day clothes but it was neither his bed nor his problem and Jaehyun was quick to distract him with more important things-- namely kisses all up and over his cheek and jaw and then down to his neck where he started to leave strategically placed marks. Beneath him, Taeyong squirmed a little bit and asked him softly for “More.”

“You can be louder. There’s no one to walk in on us here,” He teased in hot exhales against Taeyong’s skin. “Or do I have to encourage you to do it?”

“That one,” Taeyong replied, nowhere near as cheeky or as clever as he’d like to be, but at least he was honest. That was an okay start, wasn’t it? 

Jaehyun smirked and said, “Okay.” 

His hand slid underneath Taeyong’s shirt almost immediately after, thumb and forefinger already at work tweaking and teasing him. And maybe Taeyong was emboldened by the privacy and security of Jaehyun’s bedroom because he wasted no time untucking Jaehyun’s shirt by the handful until he, too, could run his hands underneath fabric and over skin. That’s how he learned Jaehyun had a six pack.

“Woah.” He breathed out before realizing it, tracing over each bump and divot a few times over. 

“Ah, I could just pinch your cheeks,” Jaehyun breathed out, chuckling. But his hands were too busy and his thoughts kept getting distracted every time Taeyong curled his fingers and scratched ever so gently down his abs. “Fuck…”

“Huh?”

“So good. Touch me more?”

Jaehyun didn’t even need to ask. All Taeyong wanted to do was touch him. All he wanted was to feel over the firmness of his muscles, giggling whenever his fingers lingered and Jaehyun clenched to tighten them, then up his arms to slip into the lack of space between his skin and his shirt, and finally over his pecks to how soft his own nipples were. Taeyong grew bold enough to play with them in the same way Jaehyun had been tending to him. The brunette’s breath hitched and his movements stilted and stilled. Taeyong nearly stopped to check in but Jaehyun was quick to catch his pause. “Keep going,” he urged. “I-... I like that a lot.”

And Taeyong liked hearing Jaehyun trip up over himself. Jaehyun, who was so composed and eloquent even down to the jokes he told, getting tongue tied from someone who often could hardly form a sentence like Lee Taeyong? What an honor it was for the smaller, blue haired boy. 

He did the same action once again just in hopes of getting the same response. Jaehyun hadn’t been speaking then so that failed but he _did_ moan and that was more than enough of a reward. 

“You’re playful, huh?”

“I,” Taeyong took a shaky breath and tried to smirk, “do what I can?”

“You do it well, Lee Taeyong. So, so well.”

That gave Taeyong all the reassurance he didn’t know he needed. He knew logically that his lack of experience didn’t matter--he wasn’t losing anything in this moment, he was just gaining an something shared with a person he had come to know so intimately in no time at all--but he wanted to be good for Jaehyun because he knew that Jaehyun would be wonderful to him.

With a grunt, Jaehyun removed himself from where he’d settled against Taeyong’s collarbone and pulled his hands away from his chest. He was visibly strained against his pants as he pulled away. (Taeyong could tell because he felt it on his thigh, not to mention that he, too, had grown uncomfortably hard). Nimble fingers quickly undid the button at his collar and then he left the others to be handled later by pulling it off over his head instead. Then he returned the favor for Taeyong, leaving him shivering as the cold air fell over his now exposed skin. Fortunately, Jaehyun was kind enough to close that space between them swiftly, so he leeched off the other’s body warmth.

Jaehyun couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you always so cold?” 

“Maybe? Probably.” 

“Then.” He took a hand away to gather some of the blankets around them and pulled them as up and over their bodies as he could. “Better?”

“The best.” Jaehyun was truly the best. Taeyong was so enamored and it wrote itself all over his face. Jaehyun cupped his cheek in response and guided them back into a slow kiss. Jaehyun’s hips dipped until their erections could rub against one another and Taeyong gasped into his mouth. Then he did it again and again until nails latched into his bare biceps and Taeyong was all but whimpering for him to “Wait!” but then “More?”

“How do you feel?” He whispered before nipping over the shell of Taeyong’s ear. His hand spread out across the expanse of Taeyong’s chest but he wasn’t teasing him right now; his hips and his lips were all Jaehyun needed to keep him occupied anyway. He ground down hard and slow again. “Feel good?”

“Great,” Taeyong gasped. At some point his hands had latched into the hair at the base of Jaehyun’s head. He didn’t remember doing that, nor did he realize how tightly he was holding on until he gripped even more. Jaehyun was rubbing their clothed cocks together and it had Taeyong absolutely losing his mind. And he _knew_ exactly what he was doing because Taeyong could see the smirk on his lips through his own lust hazed eyes. Fuck, he loved it. But he wanted to love even more.

“J-Jaehyun please,” he whined, finally freeing Jaehyun from the hold of one of his hands to trail his touch down his neck and shoulder to his hip. “I-- really want you.”

“Me too, Taeyong, me too,” His head turned and he pecked his lips to Taeyong’s cheek. “I need to pull away for a bit so don’t get too cold, okay?”

In a flash Jaehyun was gone and Taeyong in turn buried himself into the comfort of plush blankets until he came back, a bottle and a condom in hand. 

“Should be all set,” he said with confidence though it seemed more like a reassurance for himself with the way he kept peeking at the bottle’s content. “Should be enough.” While he was standing, Jaehyun took the opportunity to rid himself of his pants. Of course, someone with such nice arms and an even nicer chest and stomach would have well toned legs. Taeyong propped himself up from his little cushion of blankets on an arm and just… stared for a little bit. 

When Taeyong blinked away, his attention shifted to a Jaehyun that had started crawling on top of him again. He wasn’t saying anything, but he was giving Taeyong a look that said ‘Like it?’ And of course he did. Who wouldn’t? Jaehyun was as sexy as he was sweet. Just the thought made Taeyong blush.

He’d already stripped in front of the other for all their practices but this time he felt very shy. Jaehyun was so much, and in such a good way. Comparatively Taeyong felt a touch… small. But it wasn’t a bad thing-- not when Jaehyun seemed able to wrap all of Taeyong up in one arm just to shift them to a more comfortable position. Actually, Taeyong really liked that. He liked it a lot. 

Jaehyun took their next moments to explain it all-- what he’d do to prepare Tayong, what to expect, what he might feel. All the while his hand trailed up and down Taeyong’s chest leaving just the faintest sensation of feather light touch. That helped calm whatever swirling uncertainty had considered roaming around his brain and instead left him smiling and nodding and urging Jaehyun to, “Go ahead.”

As he’d been warned it did feel a little weird. First cold, as Jaehyun swirled the tip of his lubricant covered middle finger just around Taeyong’s entrance. Then he breached slowly, pushing in a centimeter or so and checking on Taeyong’s tension. “Breathe,” he encouraged, nosing at Taeyong’s temple in place of running a hand through his hair. “And tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

But if he stopped now, how could it happen? That’s what left Taeyong feeling a little frustrated at himself and how he couldn’t keep his brows or nose from scrunching when things continued to feel off. Jaehyun somehow must have keyed into Taeyong’s inner turmoil because he pressed an open mouth kiss to his cheeks and then his lips, aiming for a distraction as his finger sank all the way in. “There,” he hummed around little nibbles at Taeyong’s bottom lip. “You did it! You’re doing so well.”

Taeyong shivered on the spot, eyes blowing wide in the shock he caused himself. 

Jaehyun then wanted to test something; see if he could see that again. “You’re…” He chuckled at himself. “A good boy.”

This time Taeyong moaned, chest concaving with a sharp exhale of breath. Oh _fuck._ Jaehyun uncovered a kink even Taeyong didn’t know he had. He was a sucker for praise, just, well, who would’ve thought that would come into play at a time like this too?

Luckily (or maybe unluckily) Jaehyun didn’t press that discovery much further. His attention instead shifted back to where they were connected and, while Taeyong was swimming in his own head, had started drawing his finger back out. Taeyong jolted slightly when it pushed in again. 

Jaehyun’s entire demeanor changed. “Too much?” 

“Nnn-- no,” Taeyong exhaled. Breathe. That’s what Jaehyun had told him to do. That’s what he had to do. And when he breathed it felt better. So he kept that as the reminder in the back of his head, letting his touch ask Jaehyun to continue. 

Soon enough the weirdness gave way to pleasure and one finger wasn’t enough to satisfy him. Hips squirming, trying and succeeding to draw Jaehyun in deeper, Taeyong begged for more. He obliged and one finger turned to two and then three. Jaehyun just once curled them to press on Taeyong’s sweet spot and then pulled away completely with a loud, lewd _pop._

“Are you ready Taeyong?”

“Yes,” he panted, hands still clutching the bedsheets like they had when Jaehyun increased the speed of his hands. His knees fell open and hit the bedsheets. “P-please, Jaehyun.” 

But he was already getting ready, tearing open and rolling on his condom, lubing himself up then settling between Taeyong’s legs. Jaehyun bent at his back, drawing his tongue along the inside of his thighs slowly, eyes fixed so well on Taeyong that they held him suspended in his gaze. It took everything not to come undone on the spot-- and he hadn’t even been touched yet! How long would he last, Taeyong wondered, while Jaehyun climbed back over him and locked his legs around his own waist. With a little warning and a long kiss, Jaehyun finally ( _finally_ ) started to push all of himself into all of Taeyong. This… this feeling… like his insides were on fire and his outsides were flushed, warm to hot across every inch. But God how amazing it was. This was his first time and it was with Jung Jaehyun.

Just as Jaehyun reached down to his hilt he moved to link their fingers together. “Take a second to adjust if you need it,” he whispered, and since he was already at Taeyong’s ear again took the chance to take a light bite. Taeyong yelped. Jaehyun snickered. “Sorry. You’re just so irresistible, you know?”

Taeyong didn’t but it was nice to hear it. At Jaehyun’s suggestion he shimmied his hips a bit until he found a position that suddenly felt very good. And when he moaned at that moment, Jaehyun took his time to adjust himself where he could ensure Taeyong would feel that good again. “I’m going to start, okay?”

“Okay.” Though nothing was happening yet, Taeyong clung to their linked hands all the same. Waiting. Letting anticipation build then falling apart when Jaehyun rolled his hips back into that spot that made Taeyong cry. He did it again and again, setting a steady pace that kept Taeyong just on edge with its timing but also didn’t hurt him from too much stretch too fast. Above him Jaehyun grunted and groaned, eyes fluttering shut. He returned the grip Taeyong held on his one hand, used that to brace himself with his knuckles pressing into the mattress, and let the other caress Taeyong’s hip. “So good…” He exhaled. “You feel so good.”

“Nn-- you.” Was all Taeyong could manage back. He had a thought, something his body was itching to do that he thought could maybe make them both feel even more than good. So, as Jaehyun rolled his hips up Taeyong pushed them down. It caught the brunette off guard and he stuttered, needing to inhale deeply then take a pause. 

“Was that bad?” Taeyong asked hurriedly. He’d just figured... well, his body wanted to draw Jaehyun in deeper and wouldn’t that be the best way? 

A shake of Jaehyun’s head started to dispel those worries. “Haa… No, Taeyong. It was just too perfect that I suddenly worried I w-wouldn’t hold out. You caught me off guard.” And that earned Taeyong a deep kiss. “Now I think I’m really ready for you.” As Jaehyun’s hips snapped forward Taeyong worked hard to roll back, meeting Jaehyun thrust for as many thrusts as he could. It was messy and a little erratic-- nothing like the videos Taeyong used to watch on his own quite late at night, and so, so much better. The sounds of skin slapping against skin flooded into the air around him and though Taeyong tried so hard to keep his hold on Jaehyun tight (maybe a bit too tight, because underneath one of his nails he was sure he felt something a little sticky; tiny droplets of blood bubbling up from a single reddened scratch) he was progressively losing strength in all his muscles. 

A particularly well placed thrust sent Taeyong into orbit, lidded eyes rolling back just the slightest bit. His hands hit the sheets with a soft thud, fingers searching out purchase in the pillow behind his head. He’d be lying if he said it still didn’t feel a little strange to have his body opened in such a way, but the want to draw Jaehyun in as deeply as he could, to make him feel good, and of course feel amazing himself was much stronger. His lips parted, panting heavily, and at some point he gave up trying to control himself and let his hips work as they pleased. 

“God… s-so… so good,” Taeyong’s gasps turned into cries of pleasure, Jaehyun’s hands gripping at his hips and working at a much faster pace. “I--... I can’t, Jaehyun!” And the brunette would’ve replied but Taeyong had already come undone underneath him, trembling hard through his orgasm. 

Try as he might to hold out in his own right, the instant he felt Taeyong clamp around him, vice like thing that he was, Jaehyun followed suit. His weight fell onto a forearm placed next to Taeyong’s head, body growing tense and then loose. He was panting, his breath falling hot onto the skin of Taeyong’s neck. Then, for good measure, he made a few more slow thrusts that sent Taeyong’s mind reeling back into bliss. 

“J-Jaehyun…” He whispered.

“Taeyong?”

He wasn’t sure what to say, really. Sure, there were a lot of thoughts in his head but none of them felt right for this moment-- or rather, none of them felt needed. So instead he turned his head towards Jaehyun’s, tapped their noses together accidentally and giggled in response, and then parted his lips in a silent ask for a kiss. Jaehyun readily obliged. 

The pulling out was probably the weirdest part, followed by the unfortunate struggle to scrub cum stuck to his body. Taeyong really didn’t like this part… even if it meant spending extra time in Jaehyun’s nice shower and coming out of it smelling like the floral and woodland scents that always clung to his skin. Taeyong stepped out a little blindly. When they were so close it was easy to forget how much he needed his glasses or contacts to see most things. Now, all he could do was tap around slowly until Jaehyun oh so kindly gathered Taeyong against his chest and led him to his bed (and the nightstand that Taeyong’s glasses had been moved to). 

“Do you feel okay?” 

“I feel great.” 

“Good. Great.” Jaehyun’s nose nuzzled in Taeyong’s damp hair. Taeyong could feel the smile on his lips. 

A man true to his word, Jaehyun greeted a groggy Taeyong that next morning with a cup of freshly brewed milk tea. The sun hadn’t really climbed its way into the sky yet so every muscle in his body resisted the thought of movement, but one whiff of the honey sweetened drink at the very least called his body upright. He dragged the back of his hands over his eyes in small circular motions before accepting it with a bow of his head in gratitude (and a yawn too large to stifle). 

“Good morning.”

Taeyong met Jaehyun’s dimple ridden chuckling with a smile of his own. “Morning.” 

“Still feeling okay.”

“Still feeling great,” he corrected easily. The mug was brought to his lips, steam running over his face. His glasses were, fortunately, still sitting on the bedside table so there was no risk of fogging his vision. 

“Great.”

Taeyong made his way halfway through his drink in silence, enjoying it to the ambience of rustling clothes and closing drawers. Jaehyun eventually settled on an outfit just as nice as what Taeyong had come to expect from the Mad Hatter and then turned, in open zip pants and an unbuttoned shirt, to look at Taeyong. “You don’t have any clothes here.”

“I have yesterday’s clothes here?” Taeyong tried to offer as a solution.

Jaehyun snorted. “You can’t go to work in yesterday’s clothes! I wonder if anything I have will fit you…”

“Wouldn’t that be weirder?” Taeyong, who had climbed gracelessly to the end of the bed just to get close to Jaehyun, retorted. “Your wardrobe is pretty distinct.” Until a sleeve of a hoodie unfurled from the drawer Jaehyun had just been rummaging through. “Though maybe I could wear that?”

“Ah.” Jaehyun quickly kicked the fabric back into its wooden holding cell, gaze fixed and body suddenly tense. “That’s not-- I think that might be too big for you,” he said after a little too long a pause that Taeyong thought nothing of. “There should be time to take you back to your hostel if you can direct me. That might be our best bet.” 

So they went, Taeyong taking in new glimpses of the city coming from an area he’d never ventured to before. It was strange, for sure, sitting here in a new day after they’d spent their night doing _that._ They’d woken up in a pile of crossed limbs and tangled sheets, so this day, their time, certainly wasn’t without affection, Taeyong just felt rather wondering about where they went from here. People had sex all the time and continued on with their lives. The sex had been a little weird, this part felt a touch weirder. And then Jaehyun’s hand shifted from his steering wheel and onto Taeyong’s thigh and it all felt right again. _Stupid,_ he chastised himself mentally, tapping a knuckle to his temple. Jaehyun simply looked over to him and smiled.

🐇

“I have it!” Jaehyun burst into the dressing room Taeyong was changing in after their latest round of model training. Sicheng scrambled in behind him.

“Sir you can’t just walk in on people! What if he wasn’t wearing any clothes?”

“That wouldn’t be a problem.” 

Taeyong’s cheeks turned brighter than the red on his eyelids when their gazes met in the mirror. 

“You’re mad, I swear,” Sicheng huffed, pressing his fingertips to his temples.

“That’s what they tell me. Now, Taeyong.” He turned, beaming widely and taking the half used makeup wipe from the other’s hand. “I figured it out.”

“Yeah?” Taeyong asked in return instead of ‘what?’

“Your eyes. You’ve been worried about them right?”

“Eyes?” Sicheng asked under his breath from the doorway.

“Well… y-yeah?”

“Then we’re going to play a game.”

“Jaehyun,” Sicheng snipped. “You’re not making any sense.”

Jaehyun wagged his finger. “No, I’m making _all_ the sense! We’re going to make turning your gaze on and off into a game. It’ll be perfect.

“I said it before, right? A fashion show is war and the runway is its battlefield. We need all the weapons we can get. Your eyes are just that, so let’s figure out how to wield it.” 

A day that he’d meant to dedicate to cutting and sewing the prototype for his first outfit instead was spent sitting upon Jaehyun’s desk, awkwardly scrunching his face in various ways whenever the man yelled “Switch!” 

Sicheng stood in the corner and shook his head. His attention bounced between four places: looking at his wrist, tapping something out on his phone, watching Jaehyun in exasperation, rubbing his temples for relief, then repeat. “You’re ridiculous,” he groaned after what had to have been at least an hour.

“It’s working though. Want to see?”

“Maybe after the meeting you have scheduled in,” Back to the watch, “Five minutes ago. Jung Jaehyun you’re _late._ ” 

Jaehyun simply rolled his eyes and waved Sicheng’s words away. “So’s the Rabbit I’m sure of it. It’s fine.”

Rabbit? Taeyong tilted his head. 

“Yes but we want to be _better_ than that, don’t we? Come, before I drag you out by your collar.” 

As Jaehyun took a step back Taeyong pushed himself onto his feet and forward. _‘Wait,’_ he wanted to call. _‘Can I go too?’_ But that answer was obvious, wasn’t it? Taeyong only had a place at Caterpillar and Co., not in the fashion world. He wasn’t Jaehyun (he was just Jaehyun’s… something undefined). He only had so much privilege in this space. Though he smiled and waved while Jaehyun was tugged away, Taeyong let out a sigh in time with the door lock’s click. “Maybe one day,” he whispered under his breath, gathering his black and white checkered bomber jacket from a rack of Jaehyun’s nice long coats. For now, he had a mannequin to dress.

After lunch they tried again, three people cramped in a single user office space. “And… switch! Good! Okay.” Jaehyun broke off for anticipation’s sake, smiling and letting his head tilt from side to side. Sometimes he’d part his lips for a fake pout. 

Taeyong whined when his expression broke mid change. He still hadn’t gotten good at catching them and it was obvious Jaehyun knew that too. 

“Don’t pout,” he teased. “We’re not done yet.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Long fingers pulled together in front of his face while Taeyong exhaled. “Focus, focus.”

“Alright, back at it. Go, switch!” 

Shifting from words to snaps, Taeyong alternated ‘hard eyes’ and ‘soft gaze’ over and over and over again until Jaehyun graced him with one final “Switch” to break his sharpness. Taeyong’s whole face relaxed, eyes blinking a few times until they opened wide enough to catch the light.

“Ah, you’re so cute!” Suddenly Jaehyun’s hands were at Taeyong’s cheeks, squishing them as gently as one would some mochi. 

“Yah, yah.” Taeyong flailed lazily. This was not fair! He liked to touch Jaehyun’s cheeks, not have it the other way around. 

“Hey, hyung?” Sicheng called from the corner he’d been watching from. “You’re being a bit…” His eyes conveyed everything his words broke off on: a single quirked brow, lips drawn into a flat line, arms across his chest. Sicheng used ‘hyung’ so they knew something had to be up. He never called him that, otherwise. 

Jaehyun took a second to himself. Dark eyes looked back to Sicheng and then over to Taeyong. He still held his face in his hands, he still _wanted_ to as well, but he pulled them back before his face could fall any further. “You’re right.”

Over his shoulder Sicheng looked apologetic as he stared at the back of Jaehyun’s head. Taeyong knew he shouldn’t think it Sicheng’s fault that whatever was happening--and what more might possibly happen after--needed to stop. But… but… He didn’t like how cold Jaehyun felt. Like a switch flipped, it was like he couldn’t even look at Taeyong either. “We should probably go, huh?” He asked Sicheng instead. “There’s still plenty more to do.”

And the blonde nodded, though he didn’t look anywhere near as confident and punctual as Taeyong was used to. “There is. I think now is a good time to take our leave.” 

Jaehyun let out a grunt in acknowledgement, spared Taeyong a glance, a small smile, and an even smaller wave. He exited first. Lingering behind him, Sicheng took the chance to also glance Taeyong’s way. “Sorry,” he mouthed before having to hurry after the Mad Hatter. 

That night, though, Taeyong still lingered in his office. He had plenty of work to do. Plenty of things to cut and pin for sewing tomorrow. But just as often as he checked his work, he also kept glancing at his phone and towards the door. Would Jaehyun come?

He did, eventually, slipping in soundlessly after one knock and waving some scraps away so he could sit on Taeyong’s desk. They shared a few pleasantries, an update on Taeyong’s work, and then settled into something that felt very unsettling. Jaehyun ran a hand through Taeyong’s hair, tucking ever growing blue strands behind his ear. “I think… I think we should wait until the competition is over to continue our--...this.”

Taeyong had intended to say more but only a single sound came out. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want it to be like this, really. I have so much fun with you Taeyong. It’s just that your career is only beginning and I don’t want your work or your name tarnished because I like kissing you. I want your identity in this world to be your own.”

Suddenly Jaehyun bounced between sounding like Sicheng and then returning to himself. He wanted to find relief in that, in knowing that it was Jaehyun was saying these things and not the influence of another. So why did it still make his chest feel tight?

“Things are going to get busier too. We should focus, I think, on what we need to get done now so we can really enjoy the future after.” Jaehyun didn’t need to be justifying his thoughts for Taeyong to get it. In fact, Taeyong almost wished he wouldn’t. Like a nail being hammered into the wall, he felt like he was becoming smaller and smaller in the face of Jaehyun’s words; more locked into a position he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in. 

And there was nothing to pull him back out. 

“So, what does that mean then?”

“Not much should change.” Jaehyun offered up a smile Taeyong wasn’t ready to take. “We’ll still work together on your walking and your fittings. I can still give feedback on your designs if you’d like. And if we’re both around late I don’t mind driving you back to your hostel.”

“It’s just…?” Surely there was something more. Taeyong had known Jaehyun long enough to recognize when he was hyper fixating on the positives to avoid sharing something less good.

“Ah.” Caught, Jaehyun sighed. “The extended time in my office, the nights at my apartment, and probably how much I coo over you will need to end for now.”

“Right.” The things that made him something more than coworker and boss, more than even friends. “I understand.”

Jaehyun slipped his hands around Taeyong’s and held fast, giving them a single shake to encourage glass framed eyes could meet his own.

“I’m sorry, Taeyong.” 

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry too.”

[⌜But wait!⌟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329272/chapters/61159051)

| 

🐇

| 

[⌜Carry on...⌟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329272/chapters/61163671)  
  
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	4. The Mad Hatter: Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not madness-- just the Mad Hatter! Here's how Jaehyun and Taeyong end....

A week after their exchange--and it was a long week to Taeyong who found himself struggling to fill a Mad Hatter sized hole in his time--Jaehyun knocked on his frosted glass door. “Can I come in?” He asked, but he was already sliding it open and stepping inside.

Taeyong looked up and nodded. He wouldn’t have said no even if Jaehyun hadn’t already entered. Instead he replied, “What’s up?”

All at once, arms were around Taeyong and tugging him close. “I,” Jaehyun started but his voice trailed off. He exhaled and shook his head. “I know I proposed the break but I don’t know if I can do it. I really miss you, Taeyong. And I really want to keep being with you.” Jaehyun took in another breath and pulled back so they could look at each other. “In my perfect world, we could continue to be together. In a less perfect one, you’d still spend as much time with me as you did before but we’d avoid any intimacy that could get us into trouble. I know neither of those are fair of me to ask you, especially since I asked for space so... I want it to be your call, Taeyong. I’d like to do what you want to do, whatever you want to do, because I miss you. I miss you so much.”

Taeyong took a moment to process, nodding gently through all of Jaehyun’s thoughts while he composed his own. “It isn’t fair,” he finally agreed. “But I appreciate that you said that. All of that. Uhm…” He pulled back, but not all the way, and took in the space he’d created between them. He looked at how his feet shifted underneath him, the way his sneakers--despite his best efforts--looked so raggedy and beat up compared to Jaehyun’s boots. He noticed how unfitting they seemed together, from their heights to their styles to their rankings in the fashion world. It all seemed mismatched.

But maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.

“I’d like to spend time with you but I don’t want to be on eggshells while doing it. If I want to hold your hand, I want to be able to hold your hand. Y-you know?” Why was he getting so nervous now? He started off so strong. Taeyong’s mouth was feeling dry. “I also don’t want to ruin your chances at the show just because I-... I’ve got a crush on you.”

“I’d say it’s more than a crush, don’t you think?” Jaehyun chuckled. But despite the way he kept his voice steady, Taeyong could see the blush on his face and the shyness in his eyes. The dimples poking in his cheeks gave away his excitement. Gosh, Taeyong was smitten. “And it’s mutual. I’m not worried about the show, Taeyong. I think we’ll do the best we can no matter what and if not there’s always next year.”

“Next year?”

“Of course. You think I’m kicking you out once this is done?”

“I- I mean… I just thought, if you wouldn’t need a model any more or something.”

“Taeyong you’re _much_ more than a model. Putting any relationship aside, look at the things you create.” Jaehyun even turned them both around so they could look at Taeyong’s sketches after swiping some fabric scraps away. “I’d be foolish if I didn’t bring you on to design for us. It’s exactly our style.”

“Really?” Taeyong blinked between his designs and the man standing beside him. 

“I didn’t want to tell you until the show was over because I was worried it might distract or overwhelm you but yeah, really. I want you here full time. If you want to be that is. I know it’s weird to profess my feelings for you and also offer you a job as your boss. I promise they’re completely mutually exclusive but… Ah,” he sighed to stop his rambling. “This is why I let Sicheng handle most things for me. He’s much more eloquent.”

Sicheng was eloquent and Jaehyun stumbling was endearing. A smile spread wide across his lips and he shook his head. A finger pressed to soft lips to shush Jaehyun. “I trust you. And thank you. It'd be a dream come here to stay and design here.”

“Would you model too?” Jaehyun’s words were a bit muffled around Taeyong’s finger but he didn’t bother to move it out of the way to speak better. “Watching you mode is seeing my visions come to life.”

That made Taeyong’s eyes crease in joy. “Yeah, I’d love to. I’d love to do all of that. Design for you, model for you, be with you. if you’re okay with it.”

In a swoosh, Taeyong was back in Jaehyun’s arms and against his chest. “I’m okay with all of that. Nothing makes me happier than you Taeyong.”

“Not even a WWFS victory?”

“Not even that. But… I think we can get one of those too.”

🐇

They didn’t win.

But it wasn’t for lack of trying, or due to the nature of their relationship and how it continued to grow. In fact, Jaehyun was filled with nothing but praise for Taeyong’s first fashion show and spent the whole evening complimenting his runway walk, his posture, his poise, the way he, in his words, “made love to the camera.”

“I did no such thing,” Taeyong mumbled shyly in response, turning from Jaehyun to hide in Sicheng’s shoulders. He was sitting between them at a closed off bench in Kitten’s Grin. 

“You did,” Jaehyun insisted. “Your walk was great!”

“But then why didn’t we win?”

“Because your White Rabbit is just too good of a designer,” Sicheng supplied, propping Taeyong upright. 

He ended up flopping onto Jaehyun’s shoulder immediately. Then he sighed. “You’re right. He really is so good.” And seeing his newest works in person? It was honestly a dream come true. 

“Hey,” Jaehyun whined. “Don’t praise him. He already won. Cheer me up instead.”

Taeyong giggled and leaned up, pressing his lips to his boyfriend’s cheek. “It was only, what, a point’s difference? We’ll get them next time.”

“I’ll toast to that.” Sicheng grabbed his wine glass and lifted it into the air.

“Kampai!” Yuta slid into the space next to him, his arm falling across Sicheng’s shoulder and he clinked their glasses. “What happened? Did we win?”

“No,” Sicheng shot back with a glare. “Read the room, Yuta.”

“It’s my bar, I know it cover to cover.” Yuta deadpanned, holding tighter despite Sicheng’s best attempts to wiggle away. He looked to Jaehyun and bowed his head. “Either way, I’m sorry for it. I’ll get you a round of shots as a consolation.”

“Speaking of, shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, working?”

Yuta let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes then turning towards Jaehyun and Taeyong. “He never lets me live, you know? Don’t get like this, you two. Keep your love alive!”

Taeyong burst into laughter. He wanted to watch Sicheng start beating the life out of Yuta with his napkin but Jaehyun tapped at his cheek until their eyes met. “I don’t think we will,” he whispered, bringing their lips together in a slow kiss. Taeyong pressed back, fingers crawling up the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt before gathering it into his palm. They broke off as Yuta scrambled to get them shots and Sicheng chased after him.

“After we drink, what do you say we go home?” Jaehyun asked Taeyong, nuzzling Taeyong’s cheek. “I can’t wait until you’re all settled in.”

_-End-_


	5. The Cheshire Cat

Taeyong did linger after hours, probably more than he wanted to. He had so much work to do, though, if he wanted any piece of his to be ‘ready for review’ before WWFS. There weren’t many other choices other than working late. And of course, true to his word as expected, Jaehyun would swing by as he was taking his leave to offer Taeyong a ride home. Taeyong took him up on it for the first few days, a creature of habit that he was, but it got to be too stifling. He no longer knew what to do when Jaehyun’s hand fell onto his thigh (not that he really knew what to do when they first started whatever this untitled thing of theirs was). He would catch himself lingering on Jaehyun’s lips but questioning the security of the tinted windows of his car. He wanted, but he wanted more to be respectful of the boundaries and limitations that had been set. And in order to be respectful of himself he needed to stop putting himself in situations that made him feel tight in the chest.

“Knock, knock,” Jaehyun slid the frosted glass door open. “I’m heading out, would you like a ride?”

“Not tonight.” Taeyong replied with practiced precision (he’d been saying it over and over again since the clock tipped into overtime and struck seven). “I have some more I want to do before heading out. You can go on ahead.” His smile only looked somewhat strained.

“Oh?” Jaehyun’s motions slowed and his expression faltered. “Are you sure, I can wait?”

“That’s okay, really. You’ve been here longer than I have anyway.”

“...” Jaehyun gave a tight nod as though he picked up what Taeyong had laid out between them. “Can I see your progress so far before I go?” 

“Huh? Oh, y-yeah. If you want.” He pushed away from the sewing machine carefully, making sure to flip it off and fold the excess fabric that would soon become the half skirt before shuffling to the corner where his mannequin rested. “There’s still a lot I need to work on,” he commented more for himself than to give Jaehyun context as to why only the body suit was finished (and the bottom half still lay in wait for real embellishment). “But we’re getting there.”

“I like it.” Jaehyun didn’t miss a beat, speaking softly as if Taeyong wasn’t fumbling around his own brain in anxious thought. His fingers trailed over the black lace cut outs in the torso and he leaned in to look closer at the chain trip and star buttons. “This is coming along well Taeyong. You’ve really been working hard.”

“I try.” Taeyong brushed away the other’s compliment with a breathy laugh. “I want to get a little bit more done on the skirt so I can finish it tomorrow.”

“Makes sense to me.” Jaehyun kindly returned the mannequin back to its corner. “I’ll leave you to it then. Make sure you get some rest, okay?”

“You too, Jaehyun. See you tomorrow.”

But no sooner than Jaehyun had slipped out of the room, Taeyong started to unplug and pack his things. He really did want to work more but with a pounding head and a racing heart he knew it was better to cut his losses than make a mistake (he’d already made plenty on the first prototype of this side skirt). 

The sun set so early these days that Taeyong exited Caterpillar and Co. feeling a little delirious. What felt like midnight was only about 7:45PM, but his body craved nothing more than to curl up in his bunk bed and call it a night. With yet another yawn, he thought maybe that’d be just the thing to do.

His pocket said otherwise.

Taeyong pulled his phone into his hand halfway through the third buzz and opened to the right app. There were messages for him:

First, a series of cat emojis. 

_Kitten! It’s been a bit, why don’t you come by the bar tonight? I’ll make you something real good if you do._

And to round it out, one winky face.

Taeyong hadn’t input any name with this contact but context, and scrolling back just a little bit, reminded him it was Yuta. He should have figured-- no one else called him ‘Kitten.’ (How did that start, anyway?)

Midway through his own messages, Yuta must have seen the heads up that he was typing because he received a few more.

 _Come, come!_  
_Will you please?_  
_We haven’t had any pretty faces in the place in a while_  
_Well, except you know._ And one more winky face.

Taeyong contemplated his options. He could try to resist explicitly, though something told him that wouldn’t work with a man like Yuta. He could ghost him, mute the messages and go to bed. That didn’t feel too right either, though. It wasn’t that Taeyong didn’t want to see him, he just didn’t want to do _anything_ at all. He felt exhausted in the mental, emotional kind. “Ah,” he breathed out. That was the sign he needed. Time to force himself to go out.

No time at all had passed between when Sicheng first took Taeyong to the alcove and now but Taeyong found it feeling familiar. Like a home away from home; somewhere he wanted to be. His steps slowed so the rest of him could bask in the fairy lights and nighttime buzz. 

“Taeyong!” The silver haired bouncer--wait his name… Taeyong knew this--greeted.

“Hi,” Oh! “Donghyuck. How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know.” He shrugged. “It’s not easy carrying a business on your back but someone’s gotta do it.”

“Yuta would snipe you if he heard you say that,” the blonde one--Mark!--snickered. “Maybe you should say it to his face.”

“Fine fine, let me correct. It’s not easy carrying the whole front of house on your back but _someone’s_ gotta do it and that someone isn’t a Mr. Plays Pokemon GO On the Job Mark Lee over here.”

Mark gaped like a fish out of water. “It was one time!”

“Your dex says otherwise. You’re lucky I haven’t told the boss.” Donghyuck’s shrug sent a chill through even Taeyong’s spine. This boy was not one to mess with. Yuta picked the right people for his bouncers. 

“No Sicheng this time?” Donghyuck continued like he hadn’t just sent Mark into a Pokemon-induced panic. 

“Not tonight, he’s been pretty busy with work so I came on my own.”

They nodded in unison then Mark unclipped the velvet rope acting as a barrier between Taeyong and the door; Donghyuck pulled back the curtain. “Have fun, but not too much fun. We saw how you left last time.” 

Taeyong’s teeth sunk into his lip as if that could stop the color creeping over his cheeks and to his ears. “I-... I’ll be better, promise.” And then he slipped inside before more of his integrity could be compromised. 

“Kitten!” Yuta greeted across the bar while Taeyong still oriented himself with the sudden blanket of darkness disturbed only by neon lights. He must have hopped on some unknown ledge because he instantly grew 5 centimeters, only to fold over the lacquered wood and pull Taeyong into the world’s most awkward hug. “You made it!”

“You invited me, of course I’d come,” he lied through his teeth. He did make the right choice though and that was all thanks to Yuta. Stepping in front of a mushroom as tucked into the corner as it could be considering the bar’s open space, Taeyong hung his bag on the hook beneath the counter and leaned forward. “You said you’d make me a drink?”

“Yes! Something new I’ve wanted to work on. Want alcohol in it or no?”

“Uhm yes--” His growling stomach cut him off mid sentence. It made Yuta grin. 

“Maybe we should feed you first.”

“You have food here?”

“Technically,” Yuta singsonged, reaching for a menu almost out of arm’s reach behind him. It listed simple dishes, mostly snack sized and fried. “Our ‘dinner,’” He circled the word in air quotes, “menu exists but we know we’re not much of a food place. If you wanted to grab something from the cafe next door I won’t stop ya. Everyone does it.”

Taeyong hummed out his response. It’d be smart to eat but he’d just gotten here and leaving already--going to talk to Donghyuck and Mark again, no matter how kind they were--made him feel squirmy. Somehow, amidst his hemming and hawing, Yuta must have picked up on his inner turmoil because he tapped one of the younger bartenders on the shoulder and sent him on a sandwich mission. “I’m hungry too,” he explained before Taeyong could protest. “And I’m sure my staff won’t complain over an offer of free food. Everyone wins.” 

The bar was quiet enough at this early hour that once Jaemin-- Taeyong learned his name, and that his friend working with him was called Jeno-- returned, they were able to steal time for a quick ‘family meal’ (Yuta coined it, Taeyong simply found it cute).

“So your drink.” Back to business, Yuta balled up the cellophane once containing his tonkatsu sandwich and threw it seamlessly into the small trash bin by his feet. “Alcohol? No alcohol?”

“If it’s here I feel like it has to be alcoholic.” Taeyong laughed back.

“It doesn’t,” Yuta corrected, finger upright between them and wagging firmly. “But I like the way you think~”

What he returned with seemed no different than a vanilla milkshake-- bright white body peppered with flakes of rainbow sugar and sprinkles, a pile of whipped cream on top. Truth be told, compared to the other drinks on Yuta’s menu this one seemed a little plain. White on white only had so much Instagram appeal. Yuta then slid a small beaker of clear liquid over to him. “Pour it,” he urged, pushing his hands towards Taeyong to get him to start. “Go go.”

“Okay okay.” Taeyong cocked a brow and grabbed just beneath the lip of the glass with his forefinger and thumb. He took a quick whiff only to recoil at the potent scene of alcohol. At that point the only thing that pushed him to continue were the lingering fruity notes he could only hope would shine through when he drank the thing. He poured it on top.

All at once, the white of the shake melted into a bright shade of green. It stayed cloudy with vanilla at the bottom and the pretty swirl of whipped cream was ruined (luckily Taeyong had rescued the melon biscuits that garnished the top before pouring) but when he leaned in for his straw and tasted it-- “Wow!”

“Like it?” 

“It tastes like… like cream soda? How?”

Yuta’s smile widened until his eyes creased. “Magic?” He offered nonchalantly. “The magic of melon liqueur. I’m still working on the kinks but if you like it then I’m right on track.”

“I don’t know if I’d go on my tastes,” Taeyong rebuffed shyly, one hand tucking some of his hair away and holding his glasses in place while he drank. “I’m not the biggest alcohol drinker.”

“On the contrary, that’s why I should have you try everything on our menu. Anyone can order straight liquor from us, but it’s the fun stuff that needs special approval from special people.”

“Are you talking about me?” Did Yuta think Taeyong was special? He genuinely couldn’t tell. 

Yuta’s dark bangs, loose from the low ponytail that held back the rest of his hair, fell across half his face. Head tilted, his eyes creased easily with the wide smile Taeyong had grown used to very quickly. Then he shrugged. 

“I’m glad you think it’s good,” Yuta said instead of an answer to Taeyong’s question. His eyes glanced back and around once, doing a quick sweep of the area. Still nothing too packed, which Taeyong felt grateful for (and then guilty about since this _was_ Yuta’s business). Yuta looked unbothered. In fact, with everyone holding food or drink in their hands, and Jaemin and Jeno tending to any additional needs, he took the chance to hoist himself up onto the bar top. Now they no longer met each other eye to eye. Yuta seemed to enjoy this as he leaned in and looked down his nose to Taeyong, still smiling. It seemed like he was always smiling.

“How’s the weather up there?” Taeyong begrudgingly made the joke then recoiled in response. Too cheesy… 

“Prime. You could join me you know?”

“Sit on the bar of a public space? I’ll pass.”

“You’re nooo fun.” 

“I don’t try to be fun.”

Suddenly Taeyong’s cheeks warmed. A hand fell against one of them, pulling his eyes from the green drink he was still making his way through up to the man who made it. “You’re very fun, Taeyong. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“I-- uh, well,” Taeyong dragged his tongue over drying lips. He swallowed. “It was just a joke, I mean.” His voice trailed.

“I don’t want you jokingly downplaying yourself either. That’s no good, you know? Even our jokes contain some truth.” 

Was he being lectured? Taeyong’s brain tried to wrap around the words, fighting off malfunction and all the little nitpicking his mind wanted to do to him. He’d just never heard such a thing? (He’d never been called out for his tendencies either). He didn’t quite know what to say. “You’re, uh, being very sweet to me Yuta.”

“I like you a lot, Taeyong. And I don’t let anyone talk down about the people I like. Especially not those people themselves.” 

“Like me...?” He must be reading into this. And to that point, it must be the alcohol making him ask: “But what about you and Sicheng?”

“What about us?”

“Your jokes. You sound like you want to sleep with him and he sounds like he hates you.”

“And?” Yuta snorted a little with his laughter. “That’s exactly how it is.”

“I--... I’m… TMI, Yuta.”

He shrugged. “You asked.” 

Their night continued on in such a way. Yuta’s attention seemed glued to Taeyong, even as more and more bodies came into the place. Of course he never neglected his work. Taeyong watched in awe at the way Yuta seemed to glide effortlessly from customer to drink station then back to his perch next to Taeyong to continue their conversation. 

“Aren’t you tired?” Taeyong asked after what had to be at least an hour and a half of doing this.

“Tired? Nah, Kitten, this is just work.” 

“But do you always block off chunks of time to talk to people like we are now?”

“Not always.” That… That mixed with that whole ‘like’ comment from earlier, Taeyong’s heart felt elated but his chest grew tight. Yuta continued. “Having company makes the time go by far faster. If anything I’m grateful for the added task. And besides.” He leaned in close for proper secret telling. “There are some people here who’s problems I can only hear once or twice more before I flip a table onto them.” 

Taeyong snickered. “Remind me to never bog you down with anything.” 

“Hey, some people get an exception. Just not that fucker over there.” Whoever Yuta jabbed his finger towards, despite Taeyong’s best efforts in following the motion with his eyes, would remain anonymous forever (or at least until Yuta spilled more about his clinentelle). Taeyong still squinted hard to try and find the culprit. Yuta moved to say something but Taeyong’s own question came out at the same time: 

“You’ll never bother me, I’m calling it now.” “Do a lot of people come to you with stuff?”

While both sets of words processed across the other person’s mind, they stared at each other. Then Yuta returned back to his typical composure and nodded (while Taeyong sat stuck on what Yuta could possibly mean by all these statements of his tonight).

“That’s the nature of running a bar,” he explained. “People come here when they want to have a good time and that often lines up with them having a really, really bad time.”

“Seems like a lot to handle.”

“Maybe. Probably for most people but that’s why I take care to hire bartenders that I know can handle it. We offer two things at Kitten’s Grin: experience and empathy.” 

Taeyong breathed out a soft, “huh,” completely inaudible over the thump of music. Stretching his neck he took his time seeking out the straw and drinking at least half of the remaining third in the glass. He settled on two thoughts: One, would it be worth keeping that in mind next time he came? Or rather, would it be something to consider next time he felt so down on himself (aka, tomorrow)? Not that he wanted to thrust his problems onto anyone. His previous coping mechanisms involved long posts on anonymous forums, not much face to face time. These days Taeyong couldn’t talk about what was happening to anyone (save for his mom whom he called every early afternoon). Even if he censored names he felt scared of outing the men who really were changing his life for the better. But if a bar was made to vent problems... it’d be different but maybe it’d be worth it. Maybe if Yuta was the one listening.

Shifting thoughts, he spoke his second one out loud. “Does anyone listen to you in return?”

“Me? Sure.”

That answer seemed too easy and Taeyong, prompted by something deep within him he couldn’t quite place, pushed on. “Who?”

“Well.” Yuta’s expression seemed to falter, posture slipping into a bend that looked a little less than comfortable. “Sicheng does. When I can catch him.” 

Judging by the first time Taeyong had come into this space he couldn’t help but assume that wasn’t often.

“Well…” Well what? Taeyong had stopped speaking, now far too concerned that maybe he was crossing a line with words that were so ready to slip from chapped lips. But he felt like he knew, you know? Taeyong was always in some state of fretting, and coming to a place all on his own hadn’t helped with how he amplified his worries one hundred times over in his own head. And if what he was feeling was right, then it’d only be right to offer something up to Yuta, too. He was just so kind. Yuta tilted his head and leaned in closer and it snapped him from his thoughts. “I was just thinking, I mean, if you listen to a lot of people maybe someone should listen to you?” 

“Okay.” Yuta nodded slowly. “That’s fair enough.” He brought a finger to his temple, tapping gently a time or two, then asked: “Do you have a someone to listen to me, Taeyong?”

 _Jaemin. Jeno. Donghyuck. Mark. Say anyone you idiot,_ he berated, burying himself back into his drink until the straw was returning only obnoxiously loud slurping sounds, helplessly after remnants of cream, and not much more. “I can. If you’d ever want. If that’s not weird.” 

“Not weird at all.” Though it was hard to tell under the neon fluorescents around them, Yuta’s features seemed to soften. He reached a hand over the cup, across the small space between them, and tucked a bit of Taeyong’s hair behind his ear. It was just a light touch from his middle finger but it sent the hardest shivers up Taeyong’s spine. “Thanks for the thought. The same stands for you, alright Kitten? I don’t just have to be the savior of your abandoned sketchbook. Not if you want something more, anyway.”

🐇

Though the same thoughts from his previous work days still nipped at the back of his mind, far more confident steps carried Taeyong back to Kitten’s grin that next night. Intent straightened his shoulders. And while a touch of new anxiety at coming back so quickly lingered just beneath his skin Taeyong was working hard not to let that dictate the actions he made. Yesterday he’d forced himself to meet Yuta’s invitation and had his nicest night all week. Now he just wanted to continue that. With the unspoken promise exchanged between them, Taeyong’s whole self felt lighter. He may not even take Yuta up on the whole talking thing, but having the option was a game changer. A bright spot in his otherwise muddled headspace.

“Back so soon!” Mark called when Taeyong was three people away from the entrance. “What are you waiting in line for?”

“I’m not going to cut people.”

“Boss put you on the VIP list though,” Donghyuck added with what was almost a whine, judgmental, encouraging, and rather cute. “Use your status!”

“H-he did?” 

Donghyuck’s expression read as clear as day: ‘duh.’ Mark jumped in to fill the silence. “Of course he did. He likes you.”

 _H-he does?_ Taeyong kept that to himself, though. “Okay maybe next time.” 

VIP status must come with more than line cutting access. As the night crawled on, people coming and going, Yuta made no motion towards Taeyong that suggested he had to leave. Not even after last call. If anything, he beckoned Taeyong further, weight propped on top of the semi-sticky counter, to chat with him while he washed glasses. Their nights like this went well into the hours when the early morning sun started to paint over the dark sky. In the basement, it was hard to tell just how much time had passed. Maybe that was Yuta’s reasoning for putting his bar in such a spot. It kept customers disillusioned, and the neon lights held them entranced. Really the perfect space to lose oneself in, like tumbling down a rabbit’s hole.

Even Taeyong didn’t realize it was encroaching on 3am until his dying phone buzzed to beg for a charge. And even then he didn’t make any effort to head back to his hostel. He had seven hours between this exact moment and when he needed to step inside the doors of Caterpillar and Co. but he paid no mind to it. It wasn’t the alcohol or the music that called him down these stairs like most of the others still making their way out. Just a kind man with a kitten’s grin, apt for the place he owned. 

“Are you tired? You keep spacing out.”

Taeyong jumped back in his seat. Since the day they met he had tried to train himself with watching Yuta’s smooth motions but the other still always found ways to surprise him; to catch him off guard.

“Hello? Earth to Taeyong,” Yuta waved his hand between them. “How’re you holding up?” 

Taeyong caught Yuta’s hand and, holding it in his own, brought them both to rest on the bar. “I’m fine. Just watching.”

“Yeah? I’m sure my dish washing skills are riveting. Or maybe it’s my ass that’s too your liking?” He winked.

Taeyong sputtered out a non-reply. 

“Ah, I win! Cat’s got your tongue.”

“Not true!”

Another wink. “Whatever you say, Kitten.” Beneath where their eyes had locked Yuta had shifted his hand until their fingers could link. He gave Taeyong’s a small squeeze. 

“We’ll be good to go as soon as I count the register. I know you have work tomorrow. You don’t have to stick around to wait.”

“I’ll wait,” Taeyong cut in. “I don’t mind. It’s nice being with you anyway.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” Already lamenting the lack of contact (though not more than Taeyong was himself), Yuta took his hand away to set on the night’s final task. Jaemin and Jeno had already wiped down tables and stacked chairs so Yuta sent them off with a quick, “Message me when you’re home!” that struck Taeyong as incredibly endearing. He’d given Donghyuck and Mark the same orders though with far less fervor. “They live together so I worry less. The other two split off once they reach their complex.”

“You know so much about them,” Taeyong remarked.

“Of course I do, they’re my friends. I wouldn’t just hire anyone in the first place. Those I do, I want to get to know well. Makes for a better environment, I think.” 

Yuta thought, but Taeyong knew. Even some of the family owned and run restaurants back home couldn’t rival this place in terms of the genuineness that Taeyong felt walking through the doors. Genuine and kind were two of the best words Taeyong had to describe the other man, especially as he walked Taeyong all the way back to his hostel. It wasn’t a close distance--point A to point B took them at least 25 minutes--but here he was, at Taeyong’s side anyway and even opening the door for him. They lingered in the entrance way.

“Thanks for tonight. And all these nights, honestly,” Taeyong leaned against the wall and lifted a hand to stifle his yawning. After that he was smiling.

“My pleasure as always. I’ll let you know when I get home, okay?”

Taeyong nodded.

“And be on the lookout for a text from me tomorrow, okay? G’night Kitten!”

Text? Had Yuta ever prefaced his texts before? Taeyong stayed stuck on the thought for what little had been left of his night and well into the morning. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of his phone until:

_Tonight’s theme is Black Out, dress accordingly!_

“Kitten’s Grin has… themes?” Taeyong glanced cautiously from his illuminated screen over to a busy Sicheng. 

“Yuta likes to host parties,” Sicheng replied flatly. “As if his whole place isn’t already a themed party itself, he usually picks random nights to ‘spice it up,’ in his words.” 

“So what does that mean?” Taeyong’s interest shifted from his lunch to his friend’s insight. “What do I have to do?” 

“Oh?” Finally Sicheng’s gaze broke away from his phone and he glanced toward Taeyong. “You’re going?”

“M-maybe. It sounds fun enough, if I can find the time to make it over.” Because it wasn’t as if he’d visited the last four days in a row. Nope. Not him. 

“Hm… Let me see.”

Taeyong had started to hand his phone over when Sicheng pulled a flyer up on his own. “Black Out? Seems simple enough. All black clothes, silver accents, maybe some glitter.”

“Silver? ...Glitter?” Taeyong had all the black in the world, sure (or at least he thought? He had cycled through his clothes so much he was starting to forget what was available to him). 

“He usually has competitions too. Like a baby runway for the party’s best representative that night.” All at once something glinted in Sicheng’s eye. His attention shifted in a second to Taeyong, taking him in up and down. He even pushed his glasses up his nose. “Sounds like great practice to me.”

“You... can’t be serious.”

“Am I ever not serious? We’ll raid the closet.” Long fingers wrapped around Taeyong’s wrist and before he had the time to blink he was being yanked to his feet. ”Let’s go.” 

Garment after garment was tossed his way, some landing on his outstretched arms and most in a heap at his feet. Black on black, with tiny glimpses of silver or red. “Red?” Taeyong asked.

“Don’t mind it, We’ll put that in the reject pile.” Sicheng was on a mission Taeyong had never seen him set onto before, acting with energy he didn’t think someone like Sicheng could possess. As quickly as he began Sicheng was cracking his knuckles and stretched his arms above his head, turning towards the mess he’d made with a thoughtful gaze to contrast Taeyong’s obvious surprise. 

“Why don’t you pull out what you like first?”

“Uhm, well...I’d like to but…”

“But?”

“I’m a little stuck here,” he flapped his arms like a penguin to punctuate his point.

“Oh!” Sicheng hopped forward and quickly gathered all the weight off of Taeyong’s shoulders (literally). Like this, wide eyed and body bent forward somewhat curiously, Taeyong started to understand how he got the moniker of the ‘Hare.’ But he still thought ‘bunny’ would be cuter.

“There’s a lot to work with here,” Taeyong mused as he made four piles: tops, bottoms, embellishments, and rejects. “Maybe a bit too much.”

“There’s never such a thing as too much, especially not when it comes to fashion,” Sicheng corrected as he gathered the unusable items and returned them to their home in the storage closet. 

Together they eventually settled on a sheer lace black top, tucked into Taeyong’s ripped black jeans that he was currently sporting, and a pleated half long skirt to wrap around at his waist in place of a belt. 

“It could use a vest,” Sicheng hummed, diving back into the mess they’d made. “Or maybe a jacket… I guess we’ll see what we have.”

And Taeyong preoccupied himself with taking in his reflection. Slender fingers tugged at the collar, trying to pull it off his shoulder then put it back on, unsure of which looked nicer. “Is this a bit too much? It’s just a night at a bar with no dress code.”

Sicheng’s gentle laughter filled the air around them. “Oh sweetie, you don’t even know.” He returned to Taeyong, stepping up behind him, with a sweater vest and a long, studded and chained jacket in one hand and a simple black pinstripe suit vest in the other. “Have you ever actually looked around the bar when you’ve been there? Or down the line as you waited?”

The answer was obvious but Taeyong still shook his head. 

“So cute, and yet for someone as obsessed with fashion as you are I assumed you’d at least notice the beauty that surrounds you there.”

Actually, all of Taeyong’s energy was usually put towards keeping himself calm as he navigated newly familiar spaces with people he wanted so desperately to like him. 

“Take a look next time. I think you’ll like what you see.” As he spoke, Sicheng handed each new garment off between gloved fingers, simulating the different looks while alternating between them. His lips pursed in thought, half pouting, while his head tilted to a tune that was only in his head. “Maybe you don’t need it, but I think one more statement piece would be great for your runway walk.”

“There can’t be a runway there.” 

This time Sicheng just flashed him bright eyes and a wide smile in place of an answer.

“You know what? Sweater vest is out.” He tossed it away. “You won’t be able to work with it. That leaves the vest and the--”

“Jacket,” Taeyong said decisively. “I think the jacket will look best.” And as he slipped it on Sicheng quickly agreed.

“Ah.” He clasped his hands together. “You look so good! I should pat myself on the back for this find. Now,” those same hands that had met in front of his chest linked fingers so his wrists could twist and crack his knuckles outwardly. “Makeup. Come, come.” 

“I’ve got three words for you to hold onto as you start your modeling career, can I share them?” With the utmost precision, Sicheng dragged the thin brush head across Taeyong’s eyelids. No matter how many days they sat like this (well, in Sicheng’s case stood while Taeyong sat) Taeyong still couldn’t fully piece together that Sicheng--proper, well dressed, the world’s hardest working assistant and recruiter--could also be Caterpillar and Co.’s head makeup artist. Even after staring at his dusty Instagram most days, it was hard to make it click. Was there anything he couldn’t do? “Look up, keep your eyes closed.” Taeyong did just that so soft bristles could stretch past the edge of his eyelid. 

“Please do.”

While Sicheng’s one hand drew back the other waved cool air to dry the liquid liner. “Dress up, make up, sex up.”

“S-sex up?” Taeyong stammered, consciously focused on not creasing his brows or opening his eyes in shock. He wasn’t the best at speaking while the other worked on him because the fear of messing up his amazing work was far too great. But that never stopped Sicheng from trying to engage him (and sometimes Taeyong wondered if it was out of mockery). “What does that mean?”

“Well, just think about the rest of it. You put on clothes. You put on makeup. So then?”

“Put on… sex?”

“Mhm. Open your eyes.”

Taeyong blinked both a few times, then glanced upward upon instruction so the blond could start on his lower lash lid and waterline. 

“You know, like Jaehyun’s, still very strange, gaze training. That’s sex.”

Taeyong let out a soft sound in acknowledgement and let his mind wander to all the talks Jaehyun gave him about weapons on the runway while Sicheng started on his other eye. Lines connected those two thoughts and Taeyong was starting to understand. 

“So my expressions?” He asked slowly, cracking open his currently completed eye to snatch a look at Sicheng for confirmation. 

“Your expressions, your body language, how you interact with your audience and how you work with your clothes,” he broke off to inhale then blew the excess powder off from Taeyong’s eyelid. “I know it sounds like a lot but I know it’ll click once you’re out there.”

“Do you have any other advice?” As he asked, Taeyong closed both eyes again and let his muscles melt into the chair, always forgetting how stiffly he sat until it was halfway through getting ready and far too late to spare his shoulders the strain. 

Sicheng let out a hum. “Let’s see… Don’t worry about your face beyond what you’ve already worked on. Breathe, though that’s probably pretty obvious. Ah, and if you get stuck just count: pose 1, pose 2, turn 3, and step off for the rest.”

The blonde pulled back and grinned at his masterpiece. “I’m amazing,” he chuckled under his breath, while Taeyong turned around and took himself in; all mouth open and eyes blown wide. “I’m glad you’ll have this practice. You’re gonna kill ‘em out there,” he raised both brows until they vanished beneath the line of his bangs. “Especially Yuta. Now turn back around, I want to add some more highlighter.”

🐇

Taeyong paid attention this time, as he crossed over the line between gravelly pavement onto cobblestone, underneath the archway that welcomed him into a new world each and every night. He took care to look around, no longer at the packed windows of pastries and jewelry but at the people who populated the area (whose gazes he had tried to avoid every night up until now).

“Ah,” he got it now. Looking first from a group of young girls in varying shades of lolita to a pack of people smoking against the side of Kitten’s Grin donning black leather and heavy looking chains. Street wearers were the most common, in large hoodies and tight fitting, pattern splattered pants and shoes, but even among them was diversity Taeyong hadn’t quite readied himself for. He knew he was staring. With the way some girls glanced his way and giggled he knew he needed to reign it in again. But suddenly his dark, and semi-cyber gothic with the way Sicheng had painted silver and studded gems around his eyes, ensemble didn’t seem too out of the ordinary anymore. On the contrary, now that he’d taken in the competition Taeyong was ready for it. He wanted to win.

Donghyuck gaped openly, wide mouthed and a little funny looking, when Taeyong stepped up to the door. Mark, in turn, smacked his partner with a loud, mocking laugh, before greeting Taeyong with a, “Taeyong, look at you!” 

Taeyong swallowed shyly, one arm raising to reach across his body, palm cupping his elbow. _Ah!_ but that wasn’t part or Sicheng’s instructions. And Taeyong, if he wanted to survive this ‘battle’ needed to play the part. So he unfolded from himself and slipped his hand into his back pocket, lips quirking into a half smile, half smirk. 

“Ack!” Mark gasped. He raised a hand to shield his eyes. “Too much!”

At his side Donghyuck clapped proudly. “Our little boy is all grown up and ready to take on the world.” Bringing his index finger to his eye he dabbed away imaginary tears. “I’m so proud.” 

Mark’s elbow fell onto Donghyuck’s shoulder, weight shifting while he brought his hand from his face and gave up his previous act. “So you’re entering the competition?”

“Yep.” Taeyong smiled a little more like himself this time--switched off from his hard gaze. He leaned in a little bit closer, raised a brow, and asked, “Think I have a chance?”

“Have a chance?” Donghyuck snorted. “You’re going to steal the show. Do you see your competition?” He gestured widely to the people standing around the cul-de-sac in a wide variety of black looks. 

“Hey.” Mark turned to his counterpart then. “Is it even fair for him to enter? I mean he’s basically a big time model.” 

“I’m not.” Taeyong’s voice pitched a bit more than he meant to, squeaking softly. He cleared his throat behind a fist. “I mean… I haven’t even done a photoshoot yet, let alone walked a runway. I’m no model.”

“Yet,” Donghyuck amended for him. “Whatever I mean it’s already unfair considering Yuta loves him.”

“Yuta’s not the judge though?” Mark asked.

“Right but would you be surprised if he bribed them? I wouldn’t.” 

Mark breathed out an understanding _Oh_ but Taeyong waved the thought away. “He won’t. I won’t let him.” 

“Good luck stopping him.” Donghyuck grinned.

“Good luck in the show!” Mark cheered, pulling back the curtained entrance and waving him in.

In his newly borrowed heels, Taeyong took careful steps down the winding staircase, gripping the handle tighter than he meant to until he was securely at the bar level. A bouncer he wasn’t familiar with caught him before he could enter.

“You were for the show?” 

“Oh… uh, yeah?”

“This way then, please.” With a light touch to Taeyong’s shoulder he turned him towards the opposite pathway.

“I thought there were just bathrooms here?”

“Look low,” the man said rather cryptically. “And remember, party theme.”

“I don’t--” But Taeyong had already been nudged forward from a push at his back. “Understand?” Ah, too late. 

Taeyong looked around the narrow hallway. Straight in front of him, as expected, was only the all gender bathroom, golden sinks and ringlit mirrors glistening from the view of the doorway. Along the wall at his right crept more painted forestry, dripping in fairy lights that glowed low and subtle in contrast to the screaming neon in the room the other way. Taeyong scrunched his nose a bit. “Look low?” His eyes fell to his feet to the dark red carpet that lined the center of what would be silver tile otherwise. “Low...low…” 

Wait. 

In the middle of the hallway Taeyong knelt down, tapping his hands over the molding until he felt it give way. That’s when he spotted a slit cut into the otherwise smooth laying wallpaper that reached no higher than his hips were he standing. 

A door with no doorknob. Taeyong gave a hesitant knock. 

It cracked open quickly, sending him staggering backwards.

“Password,” a voice whispered sharply.

“Uh…”

“Password,” it repeated without hesitation. 

Taeyong swallowed, wracking his frazzled, adrenaline stupid brain. “Oh!” Right, the bouncer said. “B-blackout?”

“Stand clear, please.” 

Taeyong inched a little further away until the tiny door swung open in full and Taeyong, still rather dumbfounded, could crawl inside. 

Beyond the small entrance space was a room that could almost rival the bar itself. Like the night’s theme, black and silver reigned supreme from the checker tiles floor to the glittering, galaxy-like paint job on the walls. Two chandeliers dropped crystals from the ceiling and in each corner were bushels of red and white roses. Taeyong checked them out curiously and from the coarse feeling on his fingers and their overly perfumy smell deduced they were fake. That made sense, he reasoned. How many people were here at any given time? 

Tonight, however, was growing more and more packed as fellow runway walkers gave the password and were allowed entrance inside. Taeyong made his way to a couch towards the corner, passed the offer of one complimentary drink and a small table of snacks. He did peek, but seeing nothing for his sweet tooth let his nervousness win out over any want to eat. 

Not too long after he’d settled, shifting from legs crossed beneath him to one hoisted up onto the cushion and the other hanging, to his knees drawn to his chest, then back to the beginning a young man approached his area. “Mind if I sit here?” He asked from behind a black facemask. 

Taeyong looked around. There were still available options that weren’t Taeyong’s unsocial spot, tucked far away from everyone else. Still, he nodded and said, “Sure.” 

The stranger smiled and slipped to Taeyong’s side, immediately stretching out with his long legs extending in front of him and his arms draping across the headrest. 

“The waiting is the worst part,” he whined. “Just a heads up. This is your first time, right?” 

“Yeah, it is,” Taeyong shifted again, this time to where both feet stayed planted on the floor and his elbows were resting on his knees. He ran a hand through Sicheng styled hair, letting his palm prop his head up when he glanced back to the other man. “How’d you know?”

“When you come here enough you get used to all the faces that make their way through. And when it’s a face like yours it’d be pretty hard to forget.”

You’d think Taeyong would be used to such offhanded compliments being thrown his way. But then in that case, you’d be thinking wrong. 

Taeyong swallowed, scratching the spot behind his ear that his hand had settled on, and gave a soft ‘thanks’ that just barely made it above the thrum of residual bass pulsing through the walls.

“What’s your name, by the way? If you don’t mind me asking that is.”

“Lee Taeyong. And yours?”

“I’m--” 

The same bouncer from before came, miraculously (Taeyong wondered how he fit), through the doorway. “Attention!” He called, interrupting their conversation. “We’ll be getting started in the next few minutes. Please come forward to receive your randomized walk number. Then we will line you up against the wall.”

Taeyong shot the stranger a glance over his shoulder and received eye smiles and a gentle air push forward in response. By the time he received his place--ninth, was that good or bad?--and found his spot he realized he had never and may never receive the other’s name again.

 _Well, no..._ Taeyong reasoned. If he kept entering these little shows he’d see the other man. He came every time. He did take a moment, though, to look around and see where the other had ended up but in the sea of black figures the shorter man went missing. 

So Taeyong leaned against the wall and sighed. The butterflies were starting to bounce around the walls of his stomach. Maybe he should have had one of those drinks, he lamented while glancing over to the row of them still lining the walls. But… Taeyong shook his head out. He wouldn’t be able to drink for the big show so it’d be wrong to do so now. This was practice, he reminded himself in a voice that sounded much more like Sicheng’s than his own. He just needed to practice.

He just couldn’t help but think, though, that if this didn’t go well--despite Donghyuck and Mark hyping him up and Sicheng’s confidence--would he even stand a chance in the show? Would failing now predict, or rather determine, his future? Taeyong just… He didn’t want to let anybody down. 

One by one the front of the line fed into a corridor lit up only by fluorescent framed mirrors. Taeyong never would have thought existed in such a small seeming space. The contestants just before him used them as a chance to reapply lipsticks and piece out and place their bangs. He tried, too, to maybe fix whatever had popped out of place in his travel over here but looking at himself only made him more nervous. He swallowed his anxiety, avoided choking on it, and as his eyes started to avert mentally smacked himself into shape. 

_Look. Practice._

He forced his eyes back up and with all his might summoned Jaehyun’s voice to the forefront of his thoughts. _”Switch!”_ His brows sharpened, chin tilting slightly upwards, and were he staring at paper instead of glass he felt certain there’d be smoke under his smolder. _”Switch!”_ Every inch of him slackened-- _Oh wait, no!_ He regathered himself before he got too relaxed and, by consequence, lazy looking. Sicheng had pointed that out during one of their last rounds. Taeyong needed to soften, not melt. He tried again.

“Up next…”

Taeyong squeezed his eyes shut. He took a steadying breath. 

“Please welcome contestant number nine!” 

His boot hit the stage with the first beat, bouncing energy down from his step, then back up through him and at that moment Taeyong got it. He got it all. The attitude, the walk, the gazes, it all came together under the heat of stage lights and spotlights. He hit the end of his catwalk and smacked his hand against his thigh (maybe a little harder than he meant to with the sound that resonated around him, oops), hip cocked, teeth biting his lip out of sensuality and not habit.

Pose 1.

He turned towards the left of the extension, stomped on his mark and turned his body back the way he came with one hand hanging from his belt loop and the other running through his hair.

Pose 2.

Back the other way, and though Sicheng had only prepared him for two he felt _ready_ for his next one, ready as he shrugged his jacket off his body and revealed only lace covered shoulders. He kept his attention to the back for two beats they gazed back on the third, finger at his lips. His sharp gaze melted soft. 

Loud cheers fell onto burning red ears.

Sex up. Taeyong got it now. Back towards the center he left the whole jacket fall from his arms and snatched it last second into the palm of his right hand. He walked off with one final wave at the crowd, his discarded layer hanging lazily over his shoulder while he made his way out.

As he stepped off the stage, or rather stumbled down the few stairs, his free hand fell onto his chest. Had his lungs stopped working? Caught in a cocktail of adrenaline and anxiousness, Taeyong’s body needed time to regulate that he wasn’t sure how to give it considering the process of this fashion show. Someone was hurrying him towards an area behind the stage that the other contestants were already waiting in. Taeyong readjusted his hold on his jacket until he could clutch it to his chest.

 _Breathe, breathe…_ He swallowed hard and forced air through his lungs just as steadily as those thoughts came and went through his head. Now that he was settling he realized he had so much _fun._ And now he wanted to see how the others were-- what faces they made, how they posed their bodies, so on and so forth. If his mind could calm its whizzing maybe he could remember what he, himself, did to compare but that didn’t seem to be possible any time soon. He clambered carefully over the others in their small holding space and peered around the curtain. From here he could mostly see backs but at each turn he caught a little extra, like the deliberate details those walking put into their steps and how their posture shifted to accommodate the looks they were showing off.

Taeyong’s eyes went wide when the next competitor was none other than his new, nameless friend, still wearing his mask. Maybe this was normal though, because at the end of his whole runway he spun around and pulled it from his face for a flashing second, causing the crowd to erupt in untamed energy. Maybe Taeyong needed to add that move to his repertoire, could he even pull it off? He didn’t usually wear masks because they fogged up his glasses, but then again he wasn’t wearing glasses now. But would it count as stealing someone else’s thing? He’d have to look into it…

“Contestants, contestants!” The night’s event’s manager called once their final model made their walk. “Same order, please, we’ll walk out for the final judging as a group. Please get together.” 

Everyone started moving at once around him, leaving Taeyong a little helpless to the bumping, pushing, and shoving he received. The contacts were getting to him and back here was so dark that the clothes only created extra shadows his drying eyes couldn’t make out. He tried to count, but inevitably just shifted into a spot that felt the most right until someone else moved him to where he belonged. At one point a piece of paper and a pen were pushed into his hands. “Write your name, pass it down,” contestant eight supplied without smiling. 

He managed one deep breath before returning to the stage. Though there were no more distractions, other than focusing his hardest on schooling his face, Taeyong found himself saved by the graces of the lights and how they blanketed the close crowd of bar-attending onlookers. Even if he wanted to see he couldn’t, but he didn’t so he was grateful for that. 

“Our judges are finished!” A disembodied voice that sounded strangely like Donghyuck called out to the crowd. “Before we announce our winners we wanted to take a moment to thank all of you for coming tonight. I, MC Lee, with the viewership rating of 42.8% and all the rest of us couldn’t be here without you. And now, the moment we’ve been waiting for, if I can have a drumroll please?”

The DJ scratched his disc on the deck a few times for buildup before switching to a percussion heavy electronic track. Not exactly a drum roll but not too far off either.

“In third place we have… Contestant number three, Nam Taehyun!” 

A lithe blonde with center parted hair and a lot of feather boas adorning the hems of his shirt and jacket, stepped forward with a small bow and a wave.

“In second place we have…” Taeyong held his breath again. “Contestant number fifteen, Cha Eunwoo.”

A boy with a nicely sculpted jaw and generally soft features joined Taehyun at the front. The look on his face boasted confidence and sexiness, but behind his back Taeyong could see him fidgeting with the hems of his long, sheer shirt. 

“And last but not least, please put your hands together for our first place winner…” The pause for suspense started eating Taeyong alive, despite logic telling him he'd already lost third. “Contestant number nine, Lee Taeyong!”

“W-what?” He didn’t mean to make it audible, or for his jaw to drop, but both left Taeyong looking a bit of a fool in front of the whole bar. In fact, it was contestant ten who needed to nudge him forward with a push to his back. 

“Strike a pose, winners!” 

_Oh God,_ Taeyong shot a sidelong glance to the men at his left and right, watching the way they shifted their bodies. Then he moved his own, one hand at his lips, the other still holding his jacket wrapping around the front of his waist, standing before a sea of flashing phone lights that nearly rivaled the stage’s set up. Hollers and claps echoed after the lot of them as they made their way off. Show now over, some inched back through the hidden hallway to get things they had abandoned before their walk, others squeezed around the side of the stage to meet their friends in the crowd. 

With nothing left behind him, Taeyong, too, tried to follow the crowd of people freeing themselves from the hold of the back stage until he was caught by a tap on his shoulder. He turned.

“Good job!” A young girl in a full fishnet ensemble greeted him. “You’re new right? Pretty impressive winning your first round!”

“O-oh, thank you. I’m glad I had the chance.”

Another man stepped up to give his own praise while the girl shot him two thumbs up and took her leave. Then a third and a fourth. Before he realized it a small group had formed, asking for insight on his pieces, who did his makeup, where he’d been at the other parties. 

Beneath his jacket Taeyong’s nails played with his cuticles while he nervously navigated his way through the many conversations. Honestly though he couldn’t be happier. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been happier (except maybe his first day at Caterpillar and Co.). Sharing so much with a group of people was a joy he’d never known before, and while the praise was nice, being able to talk freely about the things he loved was worth so, so much more. It ended too soon when the same wrangler from earlier rushed over to disperse them so they could continue to dismantle the stage. 

“What’s your instagram?” 

Taeyong winced. “It’s not that I don’t want to give it over, it's just… old.” 

The others burst into laughter. “We get it,” one gothic lolita-wearing boy nodded sympathetically. “Don’t scroll too far down on mine either, it’s a nightmare.” 

Handles were eventually exchanged, though, boosting Taeyong’s follower account into the 500s for the first time ever with the added bonus of promises to meet at the next competition if not sooner shared amongst the group. (He also got a few phone numbers slipped into his hand with winks but he had no clue what to do with those). 

Freed, Taeyong took a few seconds to remind his body how to take in air. Ducking his head low, he hurried to an open seat he spotted at the corner of the bar. He didn’t _want_ to avoid anyone else still hanging around Kitten’s Grin, his legs just felt like jelly and the adrenaline was leaving him at a rate much quicker than he’d been moving. It was better to hide now than make a fool of himself for passing out in the middle of the dance floor. 

As soon as he hit the seat Taeyong exhaled, eyes closing, head hanging low, and when he looked up it was to the soft _thud_ of a cup being placed before him.

“Congratulations."

Taeyong looked up to find soft eyes and the brightest grin. Yuta leaned against the counter on one elbow, his other hand still cupping the bright pink and cotton candy topped drink he was gifting to Taeyong. He nudged it closer, adding "Only the best for first place."

Nimble fingers took hold of the straw so Taeyong could pull it towards his lips. "Is this new?" He asked, trying to maintain his casual demeanor despite how deliciously sweet the flavors of blue raspberry and bubblegum combined on his tongue. Keyword trying. 

Yuta chuckled, "You must like it huh? It's another experiment, kind of. Maybe more of a reward." A drink fully crafted to Taeyong's sweets obsessed palette. "For your first place."

"Really?" Now Taeyong was noticing the intricacies around the bottles rim-- rainbow candies glued down thanks to pink frosting, wires of thin sour straws poking out like branches beneath cotton candy leaves. "Just for me? It's so good, though! You should add it to your menu." 

"I'll call it the Taeyong. How does that sound?"

Taeyong sputtered and swiped his hand in Yuta's direction wildly. "I think I'd die, don't you dare!"

"Okay. Maybe not on the menu, but you can't change how it'll exist in my heart."

"You're. So. Cheesy," Taeyong, exasperated, settled back onto the mushroom top. His weight half slumped towards his left, he let his right hand play idly with the space between the straw, the candy and the sugar fluff until it made his fingers sticky. Then he just wiped them on his jeans (and felt grateful that out of everything on his body these were his own). 

"You know, I didn't think you’d enter." Yuta held a palm up and eventually had to vocalize that he wanted Taeyong's to fall into it so he could wipe away the sugar with his dish rag. 

"Yeah? Why is that?" 

"I thought you'd be too shy," Yuta said between soft chuckles, flashing his eyes up from where he was cleaning Taeyong's hand. "I didnt even think you'd dress up." 

Taeyong drew back as Yuta finished, breathing "thanks," before his head tilted. Maybe it was the drink (though was there even alcohol in this?), or maybe it was his victory high. Either way, the boy felt bold. "But I did. How does that make you feel?"

"Me?" Yuta blinked up. A man Taeyong had only known to be composed and cool looked a little lost for words. 

Taeyong couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, you."

"I feel wonderful. Looking at you shine like the star you are? A dream come true. I just wish Sicheng could've seen it too. But," Yuta's voice sing-songed, attention turning to the phone he retrieved from his pocket. "This is close enough."

He slid it over to Taeyong, screen illuminated to a chatroom between The March Hare and The Cheshire Cat.

At the top was a dark block rectangular that Taeyong expanded to see himself, his poses, stomping down the runway. He winced at first, but the more he stared the more he found himself actually liking what he saw. He could have adjusted his spine in a few places, or put his hand somewhere that didn't block half his face, but those were easy fixes for next time. "Can you send me that?" He asked as a tap minimized the video and he continued to scroll through Sicheng's various exclamations of excitement. 

_Oh?_  
_Oh!_  
_Hell yeah, look at him! Look at my boy!_  
_I discovered that you know_  
_How'd he do?_

Then another video-- Taeyong's victory. He cringed watching how stupid looked standing there but the rest was nice. A smiley face from Yuta followed the video and Sicheng's replies, mixes of Chinese and Korean in the same sentences, became unreadable to Taeyong after that. 

"You can read these?" 

"Not always," Yuta shrugged and laughed. "But don't tell him that. Anyway most of it was surprise and excitement and then an accusation of me influencing the judges which I NEVER do by the way and didn't now. All and all though." He took his phone back to swipe to the bottom.

_I'm so proud of him._

"Ah…" Taeyong brought a hand towards his lips.

"Are you crying? Oh my god don't cry." Yuta spun around to grab a small stack of paper napkins. 

"I'm not!" Taeyong sniffed hard. He snatched a napkin as quickly as they were set down and turned to blow his nose when he thought Yuta might not be looking. Shifting back around, he came face to face with a brow cocked, smirking bartender and had to admit defeat. 

“So cute,” Yuta cooed, ruffling Taeyong’s gel styled hair into imperfection. “Are you really surprised? Sicheng adores you. He’s been at that job for a while and I’ve never seen him pour more of himself into a Caterpillar and Co. model than he has with you. Of course he’d be proud.”

“I guess,” Taeyong’s words were getting stuck in his throat. His fingers pulled another fresh napkin into his loose grasp and he folded it to dab under his eyes. “I’m just… I don’t know. It feels good to win. Feels like maybe I can do this now.”

“If you strut half as well as you did tonight I’m sure you’ll make it just fine. Here.” Yuta pulled Taeyong’s half drunk glass back between them and smiled warmly. “Take a breath, finish this, enjoy your win.” 

Yuta had to return to other customers, leaving Taeyong alone and at peace with his thoughts and his phone. Sicheng soon texted him too.

 _So?_  
:)  
:)  
_I did it!_  
_You did! I’m very glad you entered. Do you feel better about things are going?_  
_I do. I think I get it now, like all the things that you’ve been telling me. It makes sense_  
_Good good. I hope you’re celebrating tonight, you deserve it! I’ll see you tomorrow :)_

Ah, that made him feel so good. He shot off a quick _thanks_ and then swiped open to his inbox. Not too far beneath Sicheng’s texts were, unsurprisingly, Jaehyun’s. And before he knew it Taeyong had tapped it open and was halfway through a message about the night’s event. 

Wait…

Taeyong read it over again. Maybe… well, on the one hand Jaehyun, as his boss, would probably love to learn that Taeyong did well in a modeling competition. On the other, it was late (and their last exchanged message was dated on the day they decided to put a hold on whatever they had) and he could just wait until work the next day to tell him. Or, Sicheng could tell him. Yeah. Yeah… That felt like a better option. Taeyong deleted the text and exited the app.

Although he started falling asleep against the wall, Taeyong sat determined to stay awake through the end of the night. He ran his hand through his hair and propped his head onto his palm, hoping that his elbow and the counter would be enough to support him. Yuta was wiping down the counters so Taeyong watched him, dark eyes following the fluid circles his hand made across the wooden finish. Behind him he could hear the soft scritch or thunk of chairs being put up, with the occasional cute bickering that often broke out between Jaemin and Jeno at the end of their shifts. They finished, Jeno patting Taeyong on his shoulder and Jaemin on his head when they passed to tell Yuta good bye.

“Good work, Taeyong!”

“Can’t wait to see your next look!”

“You doing okay?” Yuta asked once he’d returned from seeing them off. Taeyong may have been half slumped across the recently cleaned countertop but he wasn’t going to give in to sleep now.

“‘M fine.”

“You look like you’re ready to pass out. Why don’t you go home?”

“No,” Taeyong pouted.

“Want to rest in the back?”

“Noooo!” 

“Aish, okay, okay.” Yuta’s hand gravitated to Taeyong’s hair again. “Well I’ve only got a little bit left to do so just keep holding on, okay? Or listen to me and go lie down.”

“Hey,” Taeyong called across the space Yuta just created between them. “So why do you close up at 3?” he asked.

“It’s pretty simple,” Yuta started, though his focus was as far from Taeyong’s question as possible. Instead he was honed in on counting bills, mouthing each number as the total grew. “Ah, shoot!” He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes at himself then shifted his body towards Taeyong. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I can wait.” Taeyong waved away his question but, at Yuta’s quiet insistence repeated it, and then promptly ignored how much his body flopped forward because of it, “why do you close up at 3?”

“Right right right!” After tucking the bills back into the register Yuta rested his elbow in the space near-ish to where Taeyong’s own had been propped up. “Have you ever heard it be called ‘The Devil’s Hour’ before?”

Taeyong shook his head slowly.

“Sometimes it's said that things that are hard become harder at 3am. Depression, anxiety, things like that. My hope is that most people will be back home and tired out before 3 strikes. For those who aren’t or who can’t I keep the doors open a bit longer, just in case they need it.”

“Yuta, you’re so kind.” Slipped from Taeyong’s lips before he could think to stop it. Ah… He pushed his hand through his recently re-dyed and currently completely mussed up hair shyly. What to do when you mean the words that you didn’t mean to say? Taeyong’s current conundrum. He guessed the best would be to just push on. “I just mean that you seem to take care of people so well. I admire that. I feel like I don’t see it often, here in the city or back home.”

Yuta simply shrugged but the way his cheeks rounded with his widening smile and his eyes glistened told Taeyong he’d struck a good chord. “I do what I can,” he returned rather dismissively. “If it works, then that’s just a pleasant bonus.”

“I’m sure it works,” Taeyong insisted, or maybe corrected. It worked on him, and even that alone was certainly something, right? 

Carefully, Taeyong slipped from the plush top of his mushroom stool and hoisted himself up onto the bar like Yuta had done almost every night he’d come here (and unlike the way he perched onto Jaehyun’s desk). The chains hanging off his belt scratched against the hard surface softly. 

Without question, Yuta had pulled away to make space for him, though Taeyong was questioning himself and his actions. What had compelled him up to the counter had been a want to be closer to Yuta but where that came from was anybody’s guess. 

Yuta called this The Devil’s Hour, so maybe Taeyong could blame it on being possessed. 

He leaned closer in time with Yuta closing the space of the steps he had taken back a moment ago.

“Well well.” Yuta licked over his bottom lip. “How’s the weather up there?”

“You… could join me, you know?”

“Hey now, don’t throw my own lines back at me.” But unlike the first time, positions switched, Yuta did indeed meet Taeyong on the counter. He took a long look up and down Taeyong’s body-- from his combat boots up to his glasses, back over the lay of his lace top and all of the deliberate holes in it to his feet again. 

“Something on your mind?” They asked in unison.

“I said it first,” Taeyong interjected almost immediately. “You tell me.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Yuta snorted. “But you’re so cute about it, how can I say no?” He shifted his weight a bit, arms crossing over his chest, though not in any sort of negative way. More contemplative than judgmental. “This, tonight, are you still riding out the high of your first win or is there something else up?”

He received a blink.

“I’m just wondering if everything’s okay. I love having the company, Kitten, don’t get me wrong. But I can’t imagine it’s great for your health to spend all night here and all day working. Not to mention the big day is approaching.”

Taeyong scrunched his nose to the side. “I don’t know if I’m ready to think about that.”

“I don’t blame you. I don’t know how you all handle that pressure. It’s too much for me. Bartending is more my speed.”

“You’re running a whole business. I can’t imagine that’s any easier.”

“At least I don’t have to compete at the same time. Too much. I just hold the competitions. Anyway.” he unfolded his arms just to tap at the back of Taeyong’s hand. “You haven’t answered _my _question.”__

__Taeyong heaved a sigh. ‘Okay’ was too subjective. Was he okay right now, sitting with Yuta after hours, fresh off his first model win with sandwiches and sweet drinks filling him up? Absolutely. Was he okay having proven himself tonight and earning overwhelming amounts of praise from the man who had ‘discovered’ him? Completely. Was he okay that Jaehyun’s contact still stayed open on his phone and he didn’t delete the message he wrote so much as copy it to his clipboard in case he wanted it for later? This was bleeding into the realm of debatable. Was he okay with the fact that this moment would come to an end and so would Taeyong’s sense of sanity? Definitely not. “That’s not easy to answer,” he gave honestly instead._ _

__“Call me presumptuous but I think that means the answer is no.”_ _

__Taeyong’s lips pulled into a line, eyes darting downward. He wanted to chalk it up to Yuta’s practice with so many people, but deep down Taeyong also knew he was pretty easy to read. (He couldn’t help but wonder why that didn’t carry over when he was with the others, especially...). He breathed out a sigh._ _

__“You don’t have to say it, Kitten.” Yuta’s hands worked up to the top of his head, petting him like one would a cat, as his nickname suggested. If Taeyong had ears like that, surely they’d have twitched. “Sorry things have been rough.”_ _

__“They really haven’t been,” Taeyong corrected, or maybe lamented. “I’m living my dreams and meeting a bunch of kind people in the process. I should be happy.”_ _

__“We could waste away our lives thinking about the ‘shoulds’ we could be feeling. But for me, I think it’s better to ride out whatever is keeping you down first. Primes us better for when we do, in fact, need to take steps to move forward.”_ _

__“...You really think so?”_ _

__“We all have emotions. What’s the use of stuffing them away when they’re going to be there anyway?”_ _

__Yuta’s head had tilted in a way that he hoped would catch Taeyong’s eye back his way. And it took a moment, Taeyong was really resisting, but he did give in eventually. He met shining dark orbs with his own (dull) ones. Yuta was smiling. Did Yuta ever not smile? Was it always so infectious with everyone? Was that why Taeyong started smiling too?_ _

__“That makes a lot of sense. I-... Thanks, Yuta.”_ _

__“Anything for you, Kitten.” The hand that had been in blue hairs shifted and he caressed Taeyong’s shoulder with a gentle touch. “Lots of people come my way with lots of problems. Of all of them, though, you’re the one the one I’d like to see leave here happy the most.”_ _

__“But why?” Slipped through Taeyong’s lips before he could bite it back. An exasperated laugh followed, only at his own expense. Why was he like this?_ _

__Yuta, however, didn’t miss a beat. “Why not? You’re already such close friends with my friends. You’re kind, funny, fun to mess with,” Taeyong shot in a small ‘hey!’, “My staff loves you. Donghyuck won’t let me live it down that you brought them handwarmers the other night. They think I’m a monster now!” He gave a look that tacked on a ‘but whatever’ at the end of his statement. “If I can do anything that helps you out, I hope you know that I want to.”_ _

__Taeyong looked down and noticed that their hands were still linked. Actually, Yuta was holding Taeyong a little bit tighter, grounding him, before he realized it, into this spot. Together, this moment shared._ _

___You’re so nice,_ was Taeyong’s first thought. Then, _Why are you so nice?_ But neither left a good taste in his mouth. He swirled words around his head, all combinations of compliments to questions to doubt, and none of them seemed to fit. “Can I do the same?” He asked eventually, voice soft and directed downwards._ _

__Yuta leaned closer, bowing his body until his ear could be just about the level of Taeyong’s lips. “What was that?”_ _

__“Mmm…” Taeyong’s shoulders deflated with his breath. It was hard enough to say once, these words that weren’t hard but left him feeling vulnerable. He didn’t like feeling vulnerable (even if it was all he felt between big buildings and city streets). He bit onto his lip, let the tension build and bubble up inside of him like a soda bottle being shaken, until he could all but gasp out. “Can I do the same?”_ _

__This time their eyes met, Taeyong’s wide and as frightened as an animal caught in headlights. Yuta’s free hand swiped again through his hair and then settled on his cheek. “Breathe a bit, Kitten,” he urged, slowing the pace of his own inhale-exhale to guide Taeyong along with him. “You’re okay.”_ _

__“Yeah. I am,” Taeyong’s brain re-regulated along with his body, his breath matching Yuta’s. He took half a second to glance at the large clock on the wall that wound backwards through time. The Devil’s Hour had to be to blame. Taeyong wouldn’t assume responsibility himself._ _

__“Good, good,” Yuta cooed, though it sounded a little like chuckling. “The answer is yes, by the way. Of course you can do the same.”_ _

__Not that Yuta was a man with many problems. Or rather, he was such an open book about his thoughts, feelings, and concerns that there was hardly any room for problems to grow. He joked once about crying out his emotions in the morning to be a better listener at work and Taeyong didn’t believe him. But later on this very night, after the cotton candy had melted and while Taeyong’s glitter held on for dear life, as the sky bled into dawn Yuta took him to his exact spot-- a bank by the river traveled only by old people walking and early AM delivery men. They hadn’t hit the water when Yuta’s eyes already started shining, gaze turned upward._ _

__“A-are you okay?” _Can I do the same,_ Taeyong had asked earlier. Did he now have to make good on that request? Was he ready? He wanted to be._ _

__“Shh, shh,” Yuta’s finger first pressed against his own lips and then reached out to tap Taeyong’s shoulder._ _

__So he watched as the brunette stood there and cried. At one point his hands shifted, one to run through his hair, gathering at the end and ultimately removing the elastic that held it back, the other linking lazily with Taeyong’s._ _

__And like magic (or maybe more like what Yuta had said himself) that next night it was as if nothing had happened. The grin that greeted Taeyong was as honest as always. Maybe even more so, as if the curtains had been drawn back on more than just the entrance to Kitten’s Grin._ _

__So he may have gone a little crazy on the drink orders because of it. Nursing his second glass as the closing hour crept upon them, Taeyong swayed gently to the final beats of the bass while Yuta handled his final customers. Once they were gone he nudged the emptied shot glasses away and clambered onto the bar._ _

__“You doing okay?” Yuta teased._ _

__“Better than okay. The best,” Taeyong cracked a lopsided grin while Yuta started hitting his arm against Taeyong’s thigh as he wiped up the counter around him. Taeyong giggled then, scooting over and over until he hit the wall._ _

__“I have nowhere else to go, Yuuuuta!”_ _

__“Then hoist yourself up! I have cleaning to do.”_ _

__Taeyong situated his hands near his sides, holding his weight as best he could before ultimately, and unsurprisingly, fell right on top of Yuta’s hand. The other howled, overexaggerated emotions reassuring Taeyong that he wasn’t in any pain. So he smacked Yuta instead._ _

__Their grins matched one another._ _

__“Sorry,” Taeyong said, freeing Yuta’s hand from beneath his butt so he could settle back in his spot, legs falling open._ _

__“You’re so rude,” Yuta returned._ _

__“Nu uh.”_ _

__“Uh huh.”_ _

__“You sound like kids,” Jeno interjected, both arms falling heavily onto Yuta’s shoulders. Thanks to his height, he didn’t need to push up onto his toes to peer at Taeyong; it enraged Yuta every day (especially when Jeno would grin and remind him, “I’m not even done growing yet!”)_ _

__“It’s good to hold onto your youth,” Yuta’s tone took a turn towards something like a lecturer; an older brother talking to a child. Jeno poked his cheek in retaliation._ _

__“I will if it means not having to grow old like you.”_ _

__“You little brat I--”_ _

__“Anyway~ Anything else you need from us? Otherwise Jaemin and I will head out.”_ _

__Yuta let out a defeated sigh. Always beaten out by cute things, even Jeno’s teasingly bratty behavior couldn’t override his affections. “Yeah I’ll finish up. Take the other boys and get home safe.”_ _

__“Bye Taeyong!” Jeno shot him a little wave. “You be careful too, okay! I saw how many drinks you had.”_ _

__“It wasn’t that many,” Taeyong mumbled back. His cheeks puffed out, arms crossing across his chest._ _

__“Are you sure? You’re still swaying, Kitten.”_ _

__“I’m sure!” Taeyong insisted._ _

__“Okay, okay. Well let me just count the register and we can get you home, okay?”_ _

__“Wait,” Taeyong’s hand shot out quickly, grabbing the edge of Yuta’s puffy sleeve to tug him back. His hands settled onto the sleek fabric of Yuta’s vest. It looked like a splatter of neon greens and pinks beneath the lights, not like it’s sharp gold that Taeyong had seen when Yuta stepped under the kitchen lights._ _

__Calm as ever, and somehow unperturbed by Taeyong’s sudden grab at him, Yuta just raised a brow and asked, “What is it?”_ _

__“‘If you’re looking for experience you’ve come to the right place,’ that’s what you said the first night, right?” Taeyong stuttered the words a little bit, teeth sunk into his bottom lip, eyes half lidded and hazy in a mix of long lingering sleep and newfound lust._ _

__“Yeah?” Yuta, who had settled between Taeyong’s legs, dragged the back of his hand gently down the side of Taeyong’s cheek and smiled softly. He made no move to untangle Taeyong’s fingers from where they gripped at his top. “It’s what we do here.”_ _

__But Taeyong finally freed him and placed his hands beside his hips, leaning forward until he was nose to nose with Yuta. “What else do you do here?”_ _

__Yuta tilted his head. “Do you really want to find out?”_ _

__“Yeah. I really, really do.”_ _

__Yuta took a long look over him, checking his lidded eyes and where he nibbled at his lip. “Okay, I can show you then.”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__In a swift motion the hand at his cheek shifted to his jaw and Yuta had their lips locked all in one go. His thumb swiped slowly over soft skin, using newly earned leverage to tilt Taeyong’s chin upwards._ _

__His other hand searched the plain of the counter for any lingering glasses until he was given the all clear to hoist himself up level with Taeyong. It was much easier to kiss like this._ _

__“Haa…” Taeyong’s chest inflated with air when they broke apart. He hardly pulled away (he absolutely didn’t want to) and fortunately Yuta’s hand still resting on his chin helped keep him in place. Yuta leaned in gently, nipping playfully at Taeyong’s bottom lip, then his jaw, and finally at the shell of his ear._ _

__“This is a special service,” He whispered, hot breath causing Taeyong’s skin to prickle with goosebumps. “Not everyone gets it.”_ _

__“And,” Taeyong dared to continue. “Is there more?”_ _

__“Yeah, there can be,” Yuta nipped his earlobe again, causing Taeyong to jump. “Once you’ve sobered up a bit.”_ _

__“Ah… but haven’t you been drinking too?”_ _

__“I have.” Yuta pulled away and nodded, recalling with Taeyong the two shots they shared and the glass of shochu he tended to nurse most nights. “I feel fine though. I want you to be there too, yeah? We gotta match.”_ _

__Taeyong heaved a sigh. Of course. But he was (desperately) wanting the other so if it meant getting sober Taeyong would do just that. He took the glass of ice water handed his way and sipped it all while Yuta counted, messed up, and then recounted the money in his till._ _

__“Status update?”_ _

__“I feel better,” Taeyong replied but Yuta, in a full flourish, closed the space between them for a ‘full inspection’ as he called it._ _

__“Follow my finger,” he said cheekily, waving it in a slow cross formation first before trailing all over the place. Taeyong snorted out a laugh_ _

__“Now recite the English alphabet backwards.”_ _

__“Yuta!”_ _

__“Can you not? Guess you’re still drunk then. What a shame.”_ _

__“Stop!” Taeyong whined. “I’m fine. I really am.” Quick to drunk and quicker back; or at least that’s what his friends back home used to say to tease him._ _

__“Okay, okay. I _guess_ I can trust you.” He leaned in, resting both hands just past the place Taeyong sat, and let his hair fall in front of an eye. “So… what do you want to do?”_ _

__Taeyong let a long stretch of silence past, nibbling his lip, averting his gaze, swallowing his anxiety and then answering, “You.”_ _

__“Huh.” Yuta’s hum caused Taeyong’s head to tilt, returning the sound with one of his own. “I was thinking just the same thing.”_ _

__“Nnn!” Taeyong’s hand skidded beneath his weight until his palm hit the moulding around the edge of the bar. The line of his body stretched out from his slight fall, head falling back with a gasp. But Yuta was there to catch him with a hand on the small of Taeyong’s back as if he wasn’t the reason why Taeyong almost fell in the first place (as if he wasn’t the reason why they were making out precariously on the bar). With his neck exposed, Yuta dove right in. Soft lips latched onto sensitive skin, dragging downwards in lieu of using teeth. He couldn’t mark up Caterpillar and Co. property after all (and when he joked about that Taeyong rightfully smacked him)._ _

__But after seeing Yuta flash those bright white teeth every night this week Taeyong wanted to be bitten up by them. “Yuta…” He unlatched his fingers from the other’s jacket and used them to pull down the collar of his shirt. Somewhere rarely exposed for Yuta to go at. “P-please?”_ _

__Yuta obliged without another thought or a snarky comment. His teeth latch onto the skin just beneath Taeyong’s collarbone and he sucked softly--softer than expected, and softer than he thought would be needed considering the deep purple bruise blooming when he pulled away. Then he shifted to leave a matching one on the other side._ _

__Taeyong’s legs spread wider so Yuta could crawl over him more properly and his breath hitched from the trails of saliva Yuta was leaving up and down the side of his neck. While Yuta pulled his hands away to fish Taeyong’s shirt from its tuck in his waistband, Taeyong settled his back as best he could on the hard, uneven surface._ _

__“Should we really do this here?” He joked breathlessly._ _

__“Are you going to move?” Yuta laughed back. He pulled his hands away and added, smirking, “I can stop now.”_ _

__“N-no!” Taeyong was quick to sit up, gather Yuta’s own shirt into his hands, and pull him back on top of himself. “Not a chance.”_ _

__“Good.” Yuta pressed a gentle kiss to Taeyong’s cheek. “I didn’t want to anyway. Besides, Jeno can clean up tomorrow~”_ _

__“J-Jeno?!” Taeyong wiggled quickly underneath Yuta, shock and horror scrawled all over his face. “You can’t let the kids find out that--”_ _

__Yuta shushed him with his lips. “I’m kidding, Kitten. Of course I’ll clean up. God, though.” He pulled back, sweetly loving eyes meeting Taeyong’s still panicked own._ _

__“W-what?”_ _

__“You’re so fun to tease.”_ _

__Taeyong whimpered and whined, pouting in the face of words until Yuta’s hand slipped under his shirt and pulled his composure apart. “I wanna see,” he breathed, leaning back in as Taeyong’s head fell to the side to nip just behind his ear. “How much more fun you can be.”_ _

__But Taeyong wasn’t going to give in to just him feeling pleasure at the other’s well placed touches. Not when he had a whole Nakamoto Yuta above him. So after he had been stripped down to nothing more than jeans open at the button and unzipped, he pushed himself up and forward to return the favor. Yuta stepped back easily, guided by the hand pressed to his chest. In fact, in untrue to Yuta form, he didn’t say a word while Taeyong did his thing--set off exploring in the ways that he’d loved being explored before. First, over the soft fabric of his shirt, then exploring under. Yuta’s torso felt softer than expected for the arms Taeyong had seen flexed between drink-making and cleaning up._ _

__With a tap from Taeyong, Yuta’s arms rose as requested, shirt leaving his usually well styled hair in a slight mess that Taeyong felt more endeared to than any small braid or glitter painted bobby pin he’d seen Yuta sport before. Taeyong’s breath hitched. Before he could let his brain catch up with the rapid beat of his heart, his fingers had already stretched out to run along inked lines in multiple colors. Curling one slightly, he let his nails handle the details of the sharp teeth and the curve of a nose. He needed to let the tattoo go, move his focus to the rest of the man like his flat tummy or the jut of hip bones that poked out from his low rising pants, but he couldn’t… yet._ _

__“Like it?”_ _

__“Yeah, what does it mean?”_ _

__“Honestly?” Yuta shook his head out and chuckled. “I was young, dumb, and just wanted something cool so I took my first paycheck into the nearest shop and got the first thing that caught my eye. I think if I could do it again I’d go for a fox or a dragon but.” He shrugged. “She’s a pretty cat so I’m not mad.”_ _

__“She’s beautiful,” Taeyong whispered._ _

__“Thanks.” Yuta brought his own fingers back to already hard, reddened, and well sucked nipples, pinching every so often to make Taeyong break focus and breathe puffs of hot hair against the skin he was trying so hard to mark up in his own right. He hardly let up until Taeyong was nearly melted completely against him. He whined in protest, but it wasn’t enough to have him stop Yuta’s actions. Instead, his legs wrapped tightly around Yuta’s waist and tugged him as close as he possibly could, until Yuta could feel how hard Taeyong was in his jeans. And then, to Taeyong’s surprise, he could feel Yuta’s hardening cock as well._ _

__Yuta pressed their fronts together. He raised his brows, quietly watching Taeyong shiver. Then he did it again._ _

__“Yuta, please,” Taeyong whispered. His nails clawed up the inked cat and gripped loosely. “I…”_ _

__“Shh, Kitten.” Yuta pressed his index finger to Taeyong’s lips and then turned his hand to swipe his thumb across the bottom one. “Me too.” Yuta drew back slowly, walking his fingers down Taeyong’s chest as he did so. “I’m not super great with the seductive pants removal but, uh, if you can help me out we can move onto the next stuff. Sound okay?”_ _

__Taeyong slipped off the counter when Yuta stepped away. Blinking down to his already unbuttoned pants, trying to wrack his brain on when they’d been opened (but it was probably at one of the many points where Yuta had him distracted with his lips). So he pulled the rest of his belt away from his waist and shoved his jeans off his hips. _Underwear too?_ He wouldn’t dare ask, so instead he glances around to watch what Yuta was doing; use that to inform his own actions. _ _

__But Yuta wasn’t there._ _

__“Where’d you go?” Taeyong asked when Yuta hurried back into view, hopping between barefeet in nothing but his boxers._ _

__“Bathroom. You know we keep stock, right?” He placed a small packet of lube and a condom onto the bar. “Gotta make sure everyone leaves safe and prepared.”_ _

__Taeyong, poking the blue foil of the lube, smiled and shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me.”_ _

__“Works out for us too, doesn’t it? I don’t have anything else on me. Not here, anyway. Now.” He placed cold hands onto Taeyong’s bare shoulders and spun him around until their lips could lock. “Where were we?”_ _

__As cold as the basement bar could be, pressed up against Yuta Taeyong felt nothing but flushed warmth and body heat. The barkeep’s hands traveled all over Taeyong’s body-- from his waist, up his sides, over his shoulders, then down his chest. One by one, Yuta walked them down to the waistband of Taeyong’s underwear and toys with the fabric. His lips latched back onto Taeyong’s and when he felt him press his hips back into his touch, Yuta finally indulged them both._ _

__Taeyong started to tremble. The more Yuta teased his cock with a featherlight touch the more Taeyong lost himself. Unsure of where to put his hands or his lips, he eventually settled on Yuta’s nipples-- or well, one hand at his chest, the other slipping into his hair, holding fast so he could guide their lips together again. Yuta was more delectable than ever. Taeyong lapped at the sugar masked alcohol even in the deepest corners of Yuta’s mouth, and the wavy haired male worked his hands in kind._ _

__“Watch yourself,” Yuta mumbled against Taeyong’s jaw, inching him back with his body step by step until his free hand could snatch up the lube packet. He brought it to his teeth, ripping the foil gracelessly and spilling its contents all over his hand. The trash fell to the floor and though two pairs of eyes followed it, and both knew that it’d be annoying to clean up, neither chose to stop. Yuta’s hand joined the other, reaching around Taeyong’s body._ _

__“Can I get you ready?”_ _

__“Mmmf…” Yuta’s first hand hadn’t stopped, though it did slow to a steady pump of his hand that kept Taeyong on edge but didn’t build him up higher than that. Taeyong was choking on his words because of it._ _

__“That a yes?” Yuta chuckled, nosing Taeyong at a spot where he could feel him nodding. His finger glided over his hole, slicking up his entrance before pushing inside. Yuta took Taeyong apart slowly, drawing him towards him at a lazy pace until Taeyong could hardly stand. He wanted so badly to give Yuta what he’s getting--he’s even brought his hand lower to palm at the other’s own erection--but _God_ it was hard to focus like this. In the end, Taeyong was left no more than a shuddering mess, clutching tightly with his fingertips against well toned skin, moaning in protest when Yuta drew his hands back, until he was lifted up with relative ease and had him set on top of the bar again._ _

__Taeyong’s legs fell open to welcome Yuta between his thighs. His fingers played with the edge of the condom wrapper, lidded eyes watching Yuta stroke himself to full hardness. For a second Taeyong felt badly. That should’ve been _his_ job. But before it ate him up, Yuta locked their tongues in a leisurely dance and Taeyong forgot the rest of his worries. As he tugged Yuta closer by his legs around his waist, Yuta took the condom from him and slipped it over his cock. His palm pressed against the countertop while he positioned himself with the other. He smiled sweetly down at Taeyong in place of his question, and as his answer Taeyong just smiled back._ _

__It wasn’t the most comfortable position, Taeyong’s back braced by the wood of the bar. Unlike Jaehyun’s desk, there were raises at the outward end (where his shoulders should rest) that dug into him while he tried to relax. But Yuta was careful with him, so even the discomfort lingered only so long when Taeyong shifted his focus. And with someone like Yuta, how could he not pour all of his attention into him _and_ their moment?_ _

__Yuta gripped Taeyong’s hips with a softly firm touch, rooting him to the sleek wood and their point of connection. “I’ve got you,” he whispered once when Taeyong yelped, fearful of being particularly strong and how it inched him further off the edge. Yuta chuckled and gathered Taeyong into his arms, scooching them both back. “I’ve got you~”_ _

__“I know,” Taeyong moaned, pushing his own hips back in time, drawing Yuta deeper, and fuck did it feel good. He bit hard onto his lip but when their eyes met, Yuta’s flashing up in a bright smirk, he had to gasp. It brought his body forward, arms clinging tight around Yuta’s shoulders with their chests pressed._ _

__“Fuck…” Yuta huffed. “How are you so cute and so sexy all at the same? Not fair, Kitten. Not--” His breath hitched, “Fair.”_ _

__Taeyong smirked in his own right and nibbled on Yuta’s ear in thanks. Arms like jelly, Taeyong still did his best to pull one back and slot it between their bodies so that long fingers could wrap around his own cock. He was so close, just not close enough. Not yet. Not unless he could get his hand to work faster and-- “Nn!” Yuta bit hard onto his collar and Taeyong, gasping, came between them on the spot._ _

__Yuta went to let out a laugh but Taeyong tightened so nicely around him it got tangled in his throat and choked out in a moan instead. He clung tighter to Taeyong, head resting on Taeyong’s shoulder as his hips snapped up hard and quick. He grunted, nails biting small holes into Taeyong’s skin and he’d apologize for it when the shuddering stopped and he finished riding out his orgasm. Not that Taeyong minded though, the way he moaned through smiling lips assured Yuta of just that._ _

__With his hips slowing, Yuta took the chance to pepper Taeyong’s jaw and cheeks and lips with little kisses until he needed to properly take a moment to pull back and breathe. “How do you feel?” He asked as he ran his fingers through soft blue hairs._ _

__“Great,” Taeyong whispered, seeking out Yuta’s hand with his own and squeezing them. He didn’t want to pull his legs back from around Yuta’s waist. He didn’t want to put any space between them, really. But they’d made a mess of one another and should probably clean it up while it would be easier. That’s why Taeyong begrudgingly let him go._ _

__Yuta was quick with his washcloth, wiping clean both of their bodies with one, taking care of the buttprints left on his bar with another. Taeyong shimmied his pants back up his body and watched, trying every so often to offer his help and getting shot down every time._ _

__“Yuta c’mon, I can do _something_.”_ _

__“Hmmm… Okay, you can.”_ _

__Taeyong perked up at that until Yuta tossed him a bottle of water._ _

__“Drink that. You gotta stay hydrated.”_ _

__“Yuta,” Taeyong whined, pinched brows and pouting lips meeting a wide and sparkling grin._ _

__“Taeyong~”_ _

__Taeyong huffed. Yuta was… so cute. And Taeyong was grateful for his friendship. He brought the bottle to his lips and sighed again, though he hardly bothered to hide his smile. “Fine.”_ _

[⌜Comfort⌟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329272/chapters/63878911)

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🐇

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[⌜Carry on...⌟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329272/chapters/63879130)  
  
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	6. The Cheshire Cat: Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cat's den isn't scary-- we promise he'll welcome you well.

The curtains parted in one fluid motion thanks to Donghyuck and Mark, greeting the three of them with wide smiles at the entrance. One boy on each arm, Taeyong let himself be led inside through the familiar space.

EDM had given way to horns and trumpets, crooning from a well dressed quintet stationed in place of the DJ booth. With the lights on, Taeyong noted how decidedly red the rest of Kitten’s Grin interior was. Red walls and a red bar counter accented by silver tiling. The turned off neon, neatly enough, posed like shadowy accents against the rest of it; trees and the like branching out across the wallpaper. “Never would’ve guessed,” Taeyong let out under his breath. 

Still flanked on either side by Sicheng and Jaehyun, Taeyong stumbled over his two feet as they pulled him forward, caught up in looking around the changed (but completely the same space?) more than moving. 

“This is crazy,” he gapes, in awe, unable to stop looking from here to there and back around. Jaemin and Jeno were still behind the bar, shooting Taeyong smiles and waves in between tending to finely dressed customers. 

“Yuta cleans up,” Sicheng teased, a gloved hand raising in front of his lips to hide his chuckling at the expense of a man who wasn’t with them. Speaking of…

“Where is Yuta?”

“I wonder,” Jaehyun hummed. They continued to move through the crowd of champagne flute holding, arm swinging dancers stepping in time to the beat of the drums and the crooning of brass that Taeyong only noticed just now. 

“This isn’t funny Jaehyun.” Taeyong’s voice pitched and a pout pushed out his bottom lip. “I had plans tonight that he made me cancel just to come here.”

“Sleeping before 9PM doesn’t count as plans,” Sicheng corrected with a tsk of his tongue. “Just wait a bit.”

Taeyong whined. “I just moved into a new apartment. I think that warrants sleeping forever.”

“Maybe starting tomorrow.” Jaehyun compromised (though to Taeyong it was hardly that) before making his own suggestion. “Why don’t we dance!” 

Before Taeyong could protest and point out the fact that he basically had two left feet and the other two _knew _that from how long it took to train him for a runway (which he still tripped down anyway…) they were out on the dancefloor. Jaehyun swung Taeyong out with a wave of his arm, linking their fingers tight so the boy wouldn’t stumble from the shock. Even if he did though, Sicheng was on his other side and ready to catch him. But as Taeyong remained upright he instead brought their arms up together to spin underneath.__

__“Just follow us,” He grinned, shuffle-stepping until they were tightly side by side and he could start a kick line._ _

__“This is--” Taeyong’s words jumbled up on his tongue. His body tight as to not miss a step, he could only stare in wide eyed focus and hope he didn’t mess up their rhythm. Still… this did nothing to answer his question!_ _

__Where was Yuta?!_ _

__The horns cut off for quiet and the drummer, tucked towards the back of the stage, filled the space with her own little drumroll. Their dancing, and the movement of everyone else around them, had stopped. Taeyong stood in surprise but everyone else seemed keyed in to whatever details he was missing. One by one, instruments added back into the same beat as before, though at a much slower build up, until, with a crashing crescendo, Taeyong’s man in question appeared through a pair of curtains. Actually no, not appeared, he tore through them, not running but rather leaping across the small space of the stage before all but hopping off and into none other than Taeyong’s arms._ _

__“H-hey!” Taeyong gasped, air flooding from his chest with how quickly both of their bodies hit the floor and skidded back._ _

__“Hey~” Yuta cooed, grinning from ear to ear when he pulled back and looked over the other. “You made it.”_ _

__“You invited me.” Taeyong started laughing. He couldn’t help it. The place was so different but the deja vu hit hard. “Of course I’d come.”_ _

__“This one isn’t for me this time.”_ _

__“No?” Taeyong’s head tilted like a cat in confusion. Yuta started to peel himself back from where they pressed at their torsos and offered a hand to help Taeyong to his feet. Now that they were standing Taeyong could take a proper look at him. ‘Yuta cleans up,’ Sicheng had said. In a white tailored suit with black rhinestones framing the whole trim of his collar, black cross buttons keeping it strapped tightly to his frame, and a white cross tie fastened with a silver pendant popping out against his black shirt-- wait… Taeyong leaned in for a better look and discovered it was made of lace! “Amazing,” he whispered._ _

__“You like it?”_ _

__“‘Cleans up’ doesn’t do you justice.”_ _

__“C-cleans up?” Yuta made a face that was one part horrified and one part shocked anger. “Sicheng! I know it was you!” He shot across to the obvious offender. But that act quickly broke away into a fluttering laughter. “I’m glad you played me up.”_ _

__The blonde winked. “I do what I can, my friend.”_ _

__“Anyway.” Yuta cleared his throat and extended a hand to Taeyong. “Come.”_ _

__Their fingers laced together loosely and Taeyong had to not lose his cool as their steps grew closer and closer to the stage. The vocalist and Yuta caught each other’s eyes and exchanged a wordless agreement that had the man stepping away from his silver stand mic._ _

__“Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you for coming tonight,” Yuta spoke clearly, if not eloquently. Much different than the kitten grinning bartender who constantly had to shout over loud music. “I want to introduce you to our man of the evening, who else would I throw a party like this for?” Then he shifted. Though his body stayed facing towards the crowd before them his head and eyes were fixed only on Taeyong. “Congratulations on your new home. This city is here to welcome you.” Loud claps and soft cheers matched the music as it resumed._ _

__Taeyong looked out into a crowd made up of mostly strangers, but when he found the faces he did know--Sicheng, Jaehyun, Donghyuck, Mark, Jeno, and Jaemin, among many of the others he’d come to know over company meetings and shared time in the Caterpillar and Co. lunch room--when he recalled the warmth that this small community of his had given him in no time at all, he couldn’t help but give a wide, eye squinting smile. His palm then rose to his face to hide the tears that had started spilling._ _

__Yuta leaned the mic and stand towards him with raised, imploring brows. “I don’t…” Taeyong started, taking it anyway. “I’m not good at speeches,” he said more to the crowd than to Yuta. “But, uhm, thank you. This… This is incredible. I’ve never felt more at home. Th-thank you.”_ _

__Another round of laughter accompanied his exit from the stage. Yuta followed on his heels, swiftly wrapping their arms around one another’s once they’d returned to the tile floor._ _

__“Thank you,” Taeyong said much softly this time, much more directly to the man who deserved his gratitude._ _

__Yuta leaned in to kiss the tip of his nose. “Don’t mention it. I wanted to welcome you the best way I could.”_ _

__“With a live Japanese band and a fancy party?” Taeyong teased, elbowing him where their arms linked._ _

__“Is there anything better?” Taeyong’s lips parted to reply but Yuta shushed him with a finger. “Not to me, Kitten. This is my top tier.”_ _

__“Then…” Taeyong pushed the finger away and used the opportunity to take Yuta’s other hand. “It’s mine too.”_ _

__“You stole our dance partner.” Jaehyun slid up to Taeyong’s side with his arms outstretched and ended in a twirl._ _

__“I’m not sorry.” Yuta smiled, tugging Taeyong to his side. “But I am grateful you brought him here.”_ _

__“You won’t be when you get the bill,” Sicheng chimed in after. “But we’ll spare you for now. It’s a nice party.” Glasses-rimmed eyes glanced from Yuta to Jaehyun and finally to Taeyong before he asked, “Why don’t we all dance?”_ _

__Taeyong _really_ wasn’t a dancer but that night, being passed from Sicheng to Jaehyun to Yuta depending on what formation the three had settled on, he embraced the music as best as he could until his body completely wore out. He melted into a chair in the corner, legs jellied to the point that he felt like he may never move again! His chest rose with each hard inhale and exhale he took to recover. _ _

__“We need to work on your stamina, Kitten.” Yuta set a glass of water for them both onto the table Taeyong’s chair had claimed and leaned against the wall on the opposite side. “If you’re this tired from an hour of dancing you’ll never be able to keep up with me, you know that right?”_ _

__“It was much more than an hour,” Taeyong whined. “And you’ve _never_ mentioned dancing before in your life.”_ _

__Yuta cocked a brow and smirked. Bending at the waist, he didn’t stop until his lips were level with Taeyong’s ear just to whisper, “I never said I was talking about dancing.” He nipped the shell of Taeyong’s ear to prove his point._ _

__Taeyong moved to swipe Yuta away, huffing noises that weren’t the most coherent, but when he did eventually catch him, much to Yuta’s shock, he pulled him as close as he could. Their lips slotted together almost perfectly, save for a little teeth clashing and accidental biting. Taeyong kissed Yuta slowly, unaware, or rather unashamed, of the publicness of their current position. If people saw them then he wouldn’t mind-- he’d be honored actually. Yuta really was quite the catch and Taeyong was happy to call him his. Kissing in the corner wasn’t showing Yuta off but in Taeyong’s world it might as well be._ _

__It just made him happy. Taeyong just felt happy._ _

__As they broke apart Yuta took care to boop their noses together, glistening eyes seeking out Taeyong’s own. “I’m so happy to have you staying in this city with me.”_ _

__“I’m happy I get to stay, be with you. I can stay thanks to you.”_ _

__“No, no. You did all this on your own. I’m just here to support you.” Yuta’s long fingers slipped through as much of Taeyong’s coiffed, gel slicked hair as it could without mussing it up. “I’m proud of you,” he leaned in a kiss._ _

__“And.” Another kiss._ _

__“I can’t wait to see what you become.” Their lips pressed again._ _

___”And.”_ One more for good measure._ _

__“I love you.”_ _

_-End-_


	7. The King of Hearts

Visiting Kitten’s Grin made him feel good. 

Working at Caterpillar and Co. made him feel good.

The friendships he’d made in these few short weeks made him feel good.

So why, as he woke to a new day with new roommates in his hostel room, was Taeyong feeling so bad? 

The high of his amateur victory could only carry him so far when tensions were mounting inside Caterpillar and Co.’s walls. Taeyong would pass young designers, interns, marketers-- people whose names _he_ hardly knew but who all knew his face--and they’d smile through tired eyes and wish him good luck, raising their fists or saying he’s their “newfound hope.” He took it in stride, but it was a lot for Taeyong. How could he be someone else’s hope when he hardly felt it in himself?

His fears had started to take form in funny ways, keeping him fixated on the lines of his jaw (“were they getting less sharp?”) and the feel of his stomach (“was he getting pudgier?”). Plus his daily model training had fallen to the wayside so Jaehyun could focus his attention on finalizing the garment. 

_What if he takes all this time and it doesn’t fit because I failed him?_ That was the most recent thought that plagued Taeyong as he walked through far too familiar double doors and onto the plush carpet of Jaehyun’s office.

“Hello!” Jaehyun’s greeting was met with a quirk of Taeyong’s lips. “We don’t have as much time today as I’d like so let’s get to the fitting and we’ll go from there, yeah?”

Taeyong’s arms stayed outstretched, balancing the loose fabric that was slipped over them while from behind Jaehyun fiddled back and forth between zippers and corset ties. He let out a hard exhale, grip just a touch too tight, and then pulled for what had to be the fourth or fifth time. “I think I’ll have to make some adjustments.” Jaehyun let the ties slip from his fingers, and though his voice remained steady and without any hint of frustration, Taeyong felt… He bit hard onto his lip and shook his bangs in front of his eyes. To Jaehyun, he turned and nodded and started to strip himself. To himself, he made a new resolution to work harder. _Be better._

No more sneaking snacks or sugary drinks. Maybe he should work out too. Wait-- weren’t models known for being excessively thin? Would he gain muscle then? What had he been doing this whole time when he should’ve thought to diet? (Just another way he felt he was letting Jaehyun down). 

“I think I should have alterations done before Friday. We’ll check back then.”

“You shouldn’t have to do too much?” Taeyong asked more than supplied. His intentions were in his head and yet he couldn’t put them into words. 

“Oh no, not too much,” Jaehyun collected the garments and folded them over his arm. 

“Good, good.”

What wasn’t good was how swiftly, maybe even subconsciously, his feet took him back to Kitten’s Grin. Another promise of a new taste testing sat in his phone but he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. At least, where he’d messed up before, Taeyong could exert the utmost self control now and redeem himself. Jaehyun deserved a better model than someone who would jump at the chance for dessert.

As he spun around on his heel two familiar voices reached his ear.

“Taeyong! Hey, hey!” He took a step.

“Where are you going? We were just talking about when you’d be by!” He moved quicker.

While Donghyuck and Mark called out their confusion after him, he was already set out on a quick sprint back under the archway and down the alley. Dark eyes glanced back out of anxious habit. No one would be following him but… but just in case. And looking back, he happened to miss the tall, long coat wearing man making his way towards the world Taeyong left. 

There was a hum in the air, then a glance back, and finally a smirk on glossed lips in anticipation for a proper meeting.

🐇

Taeyong’s resolve didn’t hold out for long.

“Hey there, how’s it going?”

Bent over his hyper sugary concoction--he’d already failed his no sugar challenge on day three--Taeyong only turned his head as much as was needed to see the strange man who had taken the seat next to him.

“Hey.” His voice hardly reached the level of the music so the stranger just laughed and leaned in. 

“Hey,” he repeated. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going.” Taeyong shrugged, head turning so that his teeth could make a grab again at his straw. No stranger needed to deal with all the messiness in his mind. 

“Yeah?” The man was still laughing. “Looks like you’re having a bit of a rough night.”

His gaze shifted back towards the space behind the bar where Yuta was still fluttering around between customers--pouring a drink here, making smalltalk there. He’d worked up and reconfigured the energy that had taken him away from the bar the other night into a want to share his worries with his bartender friend. Taeyong had asked him to come back quickly but that hardly seemed possible at this rate. He didn’t blame Yuta for his business, it just didn’t help his mood. (In truth, Yuta hadn’t even been away from him that long. Taeyong’s feelings just turned seconds into minutes, and minutes into a heavy worthlessness that egged him on to leave.) “I guess.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” A pout formed on his bottom lip and when Taeyong looked over again the first thought that came to mind was _Cute._ “Maybe I can help make it better? What if I buy you another drink.” 

Taeyong blinked twice. _‘That’d be nice, I could use another,’ ‘You’re trying to diet you idiot.’_ “You don’t have to, I’m still working on this one.”

“Sure. I don’t have to. But what if I’d like to?” 

Taeyong parted his lips to protest but a new bartender (a fill-in for Jaemin that night, and note: not Yuta) was already tending to him. The man held up two fingers then pointed out something on the menu in front of him that Taeyong couldn’t see. By the time Taeyong finally hit the bottom of his own drink his replacement had arrived. He turned to the stranger in thanks but nearly jolted back when he realized how much the man had leaned in towards him. Unbothered, or maybe unaware, of Taeyong’s surprise, he started filling the air with chatter, asking Taeyong the basics of where he was from, how he liked the city. They never touched on his modeling job or designer goals, but Taeyong chalked it up to his own masterful avoidance of the topic. He didn’t realize the man, whose name he’s learned is Johnny, never asked.

“So.” Eventually, when the fringes of the room started to get a little fuzzy, Johnny inched his stool closer and slipped an arm around Taeyong’s waist. He brought his head to his shoulder. “Any plans for tonight?”

Taeyong parted his lips to reply.

“Yaa, yaa, yaa.” Yuta leaned in quickly with an arm between them as fast as Taeyong had started to sway towards the dark haired man. “Don’t do this,” he shot to Johnny, then pleaded to Taeyong. “Johnny, you know better.”

Johnny gave a single shoulder shrug (for Taeyong had already batted Yuta’s hand away and was settling on the other). “Why stop what he wants?” 

“Yeah, why stop what I want?” 

“Uhm, because you’re sad and you’re drunk. Obviously. Come on, Kitten.” This time Yuta tried to reach out slowly, palm up, a silent beg to Taeyong to take his hand. “The bar’s closing. We can talk as long as you want. I just need five more minutes.”

But Johnny was so comfortable. Up against him, Taeyong no longer felt chilled. And his shoulder was so broad that it accommodated his head easily.

These days Taeyong felt so, so small and up against Johnny, he finally found being small to be nice. Like it was his decision to be tiny. Like he was choosing this by being next to him. It gave a justified distraction to the difficulties constricting his heart. Taeyong no longer needed to clutch his chest.

“Kitten.” Yuta’s brows pinched. “Kitten, please.” 

“Taeyong, right?” Johnny cut in. “Why don’t we go somewhere nearby to relax? I think the bar’s a bit noisy right now.”

“I think that sounds wonderful.” Taeyong was already pushing himself back off his mushroom (and directly into Johnny’s arms when he missed his footing). “See ya later, Yuta.”

“Kitten-- Taeyong, wait!” Yuta’s eyes darted around for anything that could bring him back. “Ah--! Your bag!” Scrambling over the bar top, Yuta hooked it in his grasp and tried to chase after them but by the time he hit the top of the stairs, they were gone. “Damn.” His teeth grit. “Gotta find my phone…” He tugged it hard out of his pocket, fingers tapping out a familiar pattern before shoving it between his ear and shoulder.

“What is it?”

“Sicheng we have a problem.”

“...What?”

“Our Kitten is in a bear trap. They just left together.” 

“A bear…-- Fuck. Fuck Yuta, why didn’t you stop them?”

“You think I didn’t try? Johnny’s stubborn and Taeyong’s… Honestly, I don’t think he’s doing well.”

“Not… doing well?”

“I don’t know what goes on behind your fancy gold accented walls. I just know what I saw right now and he fell right into Johnny’s lap.”

“Fuck.” Sicheng knew he needed to say more but that was the only word coming consistently to mind. “Jaehyun…”

“You should tell him. 

“He can’t find out _now,_ it’ll ruin what little footing we’ve got.”

“Taeyong’s going to need someone in the morning.”

“I--” Sicheng let out a soft sigh. “I know that. I’ll figure it out. You said they just left?”

“Johnny mentioned a hotel. Can’t imagine it’ll be too far. Maybe you can call him?”

“I’ll try.” The line went silent but it didn’t click dead yet. “Thanks Yuta.”

🐇

“Easy, easy.”

Mr. Johnny Suh chuckled with all his chest--a chest that Taeyong was enjoying being pressed up against, feeling the vibrations of his laughter that resonated through Taeyong, too. 

“You’re a lightweight who can get heavy, huh?”

“I’m not heavy!” No. Don’t say that. Taeyong couldn’t stand the thought of being heavy.

“Nah, you’re not I’m just kidding.” And just to prove his point, Johnny swooped Taeyong up with just one arm and then placed him onto the bed. “Go ahead and get comfortable. We have all the time in the world.” 

As if to practice what he preached, Johnny nudged the single office seat in their hotel room back with his foot and made his place in it. “Ah, should’ve poured myself a drink first.” He lamented but then set to focus on other things like slipping his index and middle finger into the knot of his tie to pull the fabric from his neck. It fell away delicately, the wonders of silk, and crumbled with grace into his lap. Taeyong half expected Johnny to fold it up and set it aside but it continued to slip further and further down his thigh. He just seemed like that type of person. Instead, though, he started undoing the buttons of his white shirt despite his beige blazer still resting over his shoulders and arms. “Will you pour me a drink?” He asked with a quirk of his lips.

“Oh, okay.” Taeyong had only just settled on the bed like he’d been offered to, shoes lying on their sides beneath him, socks hanging half off one foot. This was Johnny’s room though. He’d paid for it (and ordered the bourbon that Taeyong assumed was the drink in question). He padded over to the tiny island bar, grabbing the bottle, glass, and ice that had been kindly provided in the lavish room before they’d gotten inside. “I’ve never,” he whispered, expression scrunching up in focus. It couldn’t be that hard. Ice going into the cup, drink going into the cup; there was nothing else that could be used to make a drink. Speaking of making drinks-- “How do you know Yuta?”

“I used to be a regular. A whole group of us went to the grand opening and then stuck around for a few years. It’s been a bit since I’ve gone back though. Makes it rather serendipitous that we met tonight, wouldn’t you think?”

“Oh.” Taeyong blinked and turned back towards Johnny slowly. He’d poured too much and feared it overflowing. (He’d tried to take a sip to lower the level a bit but the smell alone sent him reeling back). “Yeah. Yeah, I’d think so.” Of all the nights for Johnny to pop in, it was when Taeyong needed someone most. What was the word he used? Serendipitous? Johnny had said it in English and Taeyong didn’t know what it meant but… sure. Serendipitous, indeed. 

“Let me get that,” Johnny reached over easily and plucked the drink from Taeyong’s two hands. Somehow, Johnny brought it to his lips and sipped all the excess away in one go, a miracle in Taeyong’s eyes. “Thank you for this. ”

“Of course. I mean, thank you for _this._ ” He gestured broadly around the room, from the king sized bed that sat in the center to the high tech television and phone system, the crystal encased lights, and more than anything else the mirror studded ceiling. “It’s so nice.”

“A pretty person deserves pretty things. That’s what I think anyway.” He lifted his glass in Taeyong’s direction. “A toast to that.” 

Taeyong had nothing to toast with, but his alcohol hazed mind thought it would be the silliest thing to match Johnny’s full cup with an imaginary one of his own. “Clink,” he managed to whisper before his lips split into a wide, toothy grin that barely contained his laughter. 

Through his nose Johnny matched Taeyong’s pitched laughter with his own and added low “Clink,” in return. 

Half way through his bourbon Johnny set the glass down and went back to the clothes on his body. Each button slipped out of its place to reveal glimpses of more and more skin in the process. After his shirt fell open from his chest Johnny finally leaned forward to shrug his jacket off. The button up stayed on. Actually, Johnny took his time to roll his sleeves up to his elbows and Taeyong...he couldn’t stop staring. From collar to ab to forearm, whatever peak he could get he took. Taeyong thought Jaehyun was big and buff--and truly he was--but Johnny was… somewhat of a monster. Even in his most relaxed, leaning back against the dark leather, his muscles looked taut and flexed. Taeyong could see the lines of his veins along his arms. Taeyong had never understood why that was attractive-- until now. 

He had to catch himself, stop any potential drooling. 

“Do you want another drink?” Johnny asked to disrupt Taeyong’s lusting reverie. 

“Oh, no, I’m okay.” He glanced at the bottle of bourbon and outright shivered at the thought. “I don’t usually drink a lot actually and back at the bar was _maybe,_ ” he drew out the word in a singsong tone, “more than I should have.”

Johnny nodded slowly. “Then why not a bottle of water from the mini fridge? It’ll be best to sober up before we do anything.” That earned him a look of confusion. “I’m sure you want it. Sure that we both do,” Johnny then explained. “But I’m not going to take someone who’s drunk. Like I said we have all the time we could want. So, water. Fridge.”

Something in the tone of Johnny’s voice pulled Taeyong to his feet and had him crossing the small space between bed and desk where the mini fridge lay before he even realized it. Something about that commanding way he spoke sent shivers through his spine and pierced him right through his heart. As he wrapped his fingers around the cool plastic he couldn’t help but take a glance back-- Johnny was back at sipping his drink, flipping through a plastic laminated booklet that had been waiting at the desk. Whatever Johnny told him to do, would he just do it? 

And why… why did that excite him so much?

“You better finish it.” A smirk settled on plump lips, keen eyes watching Taeyong twist open the plastic cap. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He only managed after making his way through one fourth of the bottle, wiping the back of his free hand across his mouth.

“Good boy.”

 _Oh!_ Taeyong’s breath hitched hard in his chest, fingers gripping tight enough to the bottle that the remaining water almost, _almost_ spilled out the top. He turned his head to cough out what little had gone down his windpipe. He… God why did that sound so sexy? Taeyong’s mouth had gone drier than the rest of the bottle could satisfy so he licked over his lips and tried desperately to keep any semblance of composure.

(He’d heard that before too… this wasn’t the first time he’d had such a reaction. But… right now he didn’t want to hear it in Jaehyun’s voice. Only Johnny’s.)

He made a small show of crushing the empty plastic in his hand and tossed it gracefully towards the trash can. He missed. Johnny laughed at him and Taeyong blushed but… but he liked this. He reveled in what it felt like to stand next to Johnny. Small and almost powerless and at the other’s whim. 

But unlike all those unwanted emotions that took him from the office to the bar, _this_ was his choice. 

Taeyong liked that the most. 

Slowly, or maybe finally, Johnny rose to his feet. Arms above his head, there were two small pops as he stretched his shoulders and neck. His actions hardly acknowledged Taeyong’s presence in that moment but when he turned his attention to his right, when his eyes met Taeyong’s through his glasses, he became all consumed. Like Johnny had fixated on him, held him suspended in his gaze, Taeyong could only lean against the bed wide eyed and a little struck. 

“Feeling better?”

Words escaped him so Taeyong just nodded.

“Then why don’t we begin?”

Taeyong blinked and his back was against the mattress. He gasped and his wrists were bound loosely with the silk of Johnny’s tie. They were so quick to be skin against skin that Taeyong took a second, craning his neck, just to make sure his clothes hadn’t been ripped from his body. They weren’t, just piled at the floor, and that was good enough for him.

Johnny wasted no time-- with lips latched to the underside of Taeyong’s jaw and a hand trailing down his body he started sending sparks underneath his skin. Taeyong shivered in kind, unsure if he should put his bound hands on Johnny’s shoulders, or forearms, or just clutch the pillow for dear life. He went with the last one and was showered with chuckling “tsk’s.”

“Don’t want to mark me up?” He asked, brushing lips never leaving Taeyong’s skin.

“I-...” Taeyong gasped, “I do.”

Johnny’s free hand found Taeyong’s, unlatching his fingers from plush cotton and bringing them to his own body. “Then by all means.”

Taeyong trembled, gripping tentatively at first until Johnny’s lips turned into his tongue dragging long, slow lines down his body. His eyes slipped shut and suddenly he had no gauge on where the other was going, just the feeling of wetness trailing over every single inch of his skin. His hands fell back into the pillows again, elbows bent and in the air, and he almost yelped when Johnny dove straight into his armpit-- a new kink Taeyong didn’t know he had. Johnny’s teeth sank into the thin skin, nose buried in the small hairs Taeyong had forgotten to shave away that morning. He took his time here, until Taeyong was hardly more than a squirming, semi-giggling mess.

“Ticklish?” Johnny chuckled, punctuating his question with another lick.

Taeyong’s lips parted to reply but only a moan managed to get out of him. Johnny withdrew eventually to suckle his way lower until his teeth nibbled on Taeyong’s inner thigh and he could feel warm breath on his bare cock. Taeyong choked out a sound. His fingers finally unlatched from the pillow so one hand can work its way through har gel styled hairs. Johnny didn’t stop what he’s doing, too busy sucking red marks into Taeyong’s upper thigh, but he did ask, “Can I help you?”

Taeyong would have replied but the second he inhaled he was quickly cut off. His body jolted, the leg that wasn’t being bit jerking and bending just slightly at the knee. “J-johnny!” He cried.

“Hm~?”

“P-please…”

“Please? Please what?” He hadn’t stopped nibbling and licking and biting hard on the parts of Taeyong that were so, so sensitive (and yet, still ignoring so much of where Taeyong wanted him to be). “Use your words.”

“Nnnn…” How can he when every time he tries Johnny bites him again?! Taeyong was growing more desperate. He clutched at the sheets with his fingers and toes, trying to pull resolve from the white starched cotton and then finally, just barely, managed to choke out, “S-suck my…” 

Johnny pulled back, head tilting to the point where loosened black bangs could fall over an eye, and he stared, leaving Taeyong to fret over whether or not he’d done something wrong. He shifted beneath the other man, tongue dragging over his lips nervously. He was a second from curling in on himself and running away until a smirk spread across his lips and he asked: “Well why didn’t you say so?” 

It was hot and heavy and constricted Taeyong’s chest and _damn_ did it feel good to have Johnny’s lips around him. He strained his neck a bit trying to peek, watching dark black hair bounce as he bobbed his head. The long lines Johnny drew with his tongue were dizzying, prompting Taeyong’s fingers to dig deep in the hotel bed sheets and “Fuck,” he gasped. “Wait, Johnny.” He wanted to hold out and he wanted more and he knew that like this he’ll never make it work. Johnny seemed to take pity on him, though. He didn't tease him while he pulled away, like he had earlier, and he was quick to fish out a bottle of lubricant.

As much as Taeyong soon found himself missing the banter, he had become far too lost in Johnny’s masterful control over his own body (and the way he could play Taeyong’s) to really complain about it. Actually, all he got was a quick ask of “You ready?” and a chance to agree before his wrists were freed and he had his arms full of Johnny’s body. Taeyong’s legs wrapped around Johnny’s waist, back arching with the full feel of the other man pushing into him. He exhaled out his tension in short gasps all the way until Johnny’s hit his hilt.

Then Johnny spoke again to ask, “Is it okay?”

“Great.” Taeyong, breathless, offered a small smile. Anything that wasn’t what he was feeling before he met Johnny probably counted as ‘great’ but the man _had_ already made him feel so good. “Keep going,” he urged after. He wanted to feel even better.

Johnny rooted one hand on Taeyong’s hip, gripping tight enough to bruise if he wanted to. His other hand, though, sought out one of the ones Taeyong had placed on his shoulder blade and gathered it against his palm. He brought Taeyong’s arm back near his head, pressing slightly into the bedsheets and he held their hands together with laced fingers. A nice contrast--firm and soft. Just like the movements of Johnny’s hips going slow and steady and yet somehow even deeper than Taeyong could imagine. His whines melted out of him in wheezes, jarring his chest on every exhale until Johnny nuzzled against his jawline and whispered, “Breathe,” with the world’s softest chuckle.

“Ah.” Taeyong gasped, doing just as he was told. Breathing. “Right.”

“Silly.”

He pulled back to bring their lips together. With a swipe of Johnny’s tongue Taeyong’s mouth opened and he met him as much as he could until he felt desperate for air. “Ready?” Johnny whispered, their lips still brushing. Taeyong went to answer but was cut off with a coy tug of teeth at his bottom lip. He tried again but was silenced with another kiss. Third time’s a charm but Johnny caught him off guard with rubbing their noses together back and forth. Taeyong could only huff!

“Stop!”

“Stop? Okay,” Johnny had been pulling back already so he stopped right there. 

“W-wait, that’s not what I mmmmm--...meant.” 

“No? Then what did you mean, babe?”

“I-... Just… Just wanted to tell you I was ready.”

“You are?”

“Yes, Johnny! Yes!”

Johnny’s grip tightened on both hands, his hips angling sublty to press against Taeyong’s sweet spot. And then he pounded into it, doubling the pace he’d built with such swift speed that Taeyong was left purely at his mercy. Well… actually, he could cry out, which he did, and gasp, which he really did. “Johnny… A-ah… f...please… Johnny.” 

“Good?” Johnny grunted.

“Great!”

“Great.” 

Johnny kissed Taeyong again but his hips didn’t let up. Actually, it wasn’t until Taeyong was digging his nails into his skin and whining that he was, “So close,” that he adjusted into a slow grind just to draw Taeyong out to his furthest edge. Snaking a hand between them Johnny wrapped his fingers around Taeyong’s cock and gave it a few tentative strokes. His eyes never left Taeyong’s face, wanting to watch every scrunch and twitch and glassy gaze. He stroked Taeyong again to make him mewl. “Cum for me,” he whispered, and that was all Taeyong needed to release all over their chests. 

Shivering through his orgasm, he felt Johnny finish too and slowly start to pull out. He’d protest if he had a little more energy. He’d ask him to wait, stay like that a little longer, let them kiss through all the aftershock. But Taeyong was too tired. The most he managed, instead, was to agree to Johnny’s request to clean them both up before he was out for the night.

🐇

Taeyong rolled over, body pressing into a warm outline in the sheets. The curtains were too dark to let the morning’s light through but Taeyong’s internal clock took care of him nicely, picking up the slack while his phone lay lifeless besides him. He inhaled slowly, letting a sleepy brain process the scent of crisp cotton and expensive cologne. His hand stretched out over the expanse of the bed, fingers pressing into the taut sheets before crawling back beneath a far too soft pillow. Taeyong was remembering now… broad shoulders and nice chest, strong arms, a warm body. They’d torn this hotel room apart together last night. Now it was morning...

And he was all alone.

Shooting upright, Taeyong first went for the sheets that were falling off of his chest (even though they were exposing him to no one, it was far more than he wanted) and then for his phone. Nothing but a black screen. Right, it had died early into the night. But there had to be a chord somewhere? A hotel as nice as this surely was accommodating. Anxious eyes looked everywhere and missed the one spot where what he needed had been until he had just about given up. 

_Thank God._ Taeyong choked on the thought and-- Oh? What was in his eyes? Nimble fingers connected the charger to his phone while his other hand pressed against his lids. Alternating palm to back to palm again he wondered when it’d stop. And then of course why he was crying in the first place. 

It took too long for his phone to finally light up, and even more time still before it was able to use it. By the time notifications came buzzing in he was shaking hard underneath all the blankets and the comforter he had gathered around him, watching as familiar names (names that gave him so much relief to see) injected him with nervousness.

_Are you okay Kitten? Message me when you can?_

_Is this where you’re staying? I can come by with car to get you in the morning, just let me know, okay Taeyong?_

_Just following up. I don’t need an answer anytime soon, I just want to make sure you’re doing alright._

_Sicheng asked if I’ve heard from you. Mind sending over a smile or something?_

Even Donghyuck and Mark had sent a quick, _Everything okay?_ and _Hoping to see you soon_ that Taeyong didn’t feel he deserved.

None of it actually. None of this concern. None of this caring. Not when he’d done something he wanted to last night-- and that was the thing wasn’t it? He’d wanted to come here with Johnny. So why couldn’t he get this restricting feeling around his chest to loosen up some? Why was he still crying? 

Another buzz drew him back into the blackhole of messages that he couldn’t bring himself to open yet. This time it was long and repetitive. A phone call. Taeyong didn’t recognize the number but he answered anyway.

“Good morning.” A voice that deep could only belong to one person.

“Where’d you go?” Taeyong asked quietly, hoping to get all the tears out of his voice.

“Sorry… I got called to work sooner than I expected to be. I meant to write a note but there was a car outside already. I hope calling is an okay back up. How are you feeling?”

“I’m…” Taeyong couldn’t detect anything bad in Johnny’s voice. In fact, hearing him now reminded him of all the high points last night. All the nice little commands and encouragements and praises Johnny had given to him. He wasn’t okay yet but maybe he could be. “Fine.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Taeyong could hear the cool smile on Johnny’s lips as clear as the day hidden behind hotel black out curtains. “There should be more water in the refrigerator. Make sure you eat too, it’ll just go onto my tab so order whatever you want. Let’s talk soon, yeah? I added your number to my phone so we can keep in touch.” 

“Okay.” Taeyong licked over his chapped, chewed up lips. “Talk to you later then.” Clicking off his phone he went back into straight silence, save for the hammering of his heart.

That started to explain the panic a bit more. The one reason he left with Johnny in the first place was to avoid the quiet like this. What a fool he was to not expect this (and to disregard Yuta’s warnings, that made reading over his text messages even harder). Currently it was 8AM, so Taeyong had at least an hour and a half before he needed to be on the road towards work. Which was the same hour and a half he had to focus on pulling himself together so he didn’t burst into tears the second someone graced him with a “Hi.” But it also meant he could buy a bit of time to return to the false security of starchy hotel blankets.

Then his phone rang again, lit up with two emojis-- a rabbit and a pair of glasses. 

Taeyong’s fingers twitched in a battle of do and don’t, counting down the number of buzzes left until Sicheng would go ignored yet again. Then he answered.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God.” The sigh of relief was clearly audible from the other end. “Taeyong how are you doing? No, wait, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I just want to know if I can come get you?”

“Yeah.” Wait. He meant no? He meant to deny himself contact with the friends he felt he betrayed for as long as he could. He moved to take it back but Sicheng cut him off already. 

“Thank you. Are you at the Line Hotel?”

“I…” Taeyong glanced through the darkness to a packet on the table next to him. “I am.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in about an hour--”

“An hour and a half.” He meant it as a question but it was too late now.

“Hour and a half, sure. See you soon.”

His phone screen returned to black for a long while before Taeyong peeled his naked body from the bed. Johnny offered up a breakfast that he wanted to take but it would disturb his strategy; eat in shared spaces, drink at the bar. No one was suspicious then. So instead he shuffled over to his bag, pulling out a half emptied, protein supplement pill pack from a box that said “Eat Me!” implying that nothing else needed to be consumed. He took it with the water Johnny mentioned to drink. 

A shower helped pull himself together, mixing droplets down his face with the tears from his eyes until he felt okay, or at least too tired to let himself slip further into his own despair. 

Once he’d stepped out and slipped into yesterday’s clothes, wrinkled sadly from their stay on the floor, it was just a matter of waiting for Sicheng to come around to pick him up. Taeyong passed the minutes picking at the hem of his clothes, hoping it wouldn’t be as obvious to anyone else that only the details had changed-- accessories removed, shirt now french tucked. He wished he had his beanie if only for an excuse to hide from eyes he hadn’t even come across yet.

Sicheng pinged his phone.

With ghost light steps Taeyong took the five flights of stairs down instead of the elevator, and grunted a goodbye to the hotel clerk whose face was masked behind a steel curtain. Was there even a kitchen for breakfast here like Johnny mentioned? Taeyong didn’t bother to find out. 

It all happened at once: the door swinging open, Taeyong slipping inside, Sicheng falling over his body. “Are you okay?” He asked with the most wrought expression Taeyong had ever seen on the March Hare’s face. 

“I’m… Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” Taeyong took Sicheng’s hands into his own and pulled them away from his cheeks.

“That’s… A fair question.” Sicheng took the cue and straightened, creating a healthy bit of space between them. “Johnny Suh has a bit of a reputation, so--”

“Yuta told you everything, huh?”

“Yuta was worried about you.”

“There was nothing to be worried about.” 

“Yeah?” Sicheng rose a brow and stared at Taeyong until he couldn’t help but squirm beneath his gaze. His resolve was wavering already and he hadn’t even started his day. 

“Then I guess there was nothing to worry about. Here, before I forget.” Sicheng’s body twisted until he could grab the sack sitting behind him then he dropped it into Taeyong’s lap. “You forgot your sketchbook again.”

“O-oh. I didn’t realize,” Taeyong quickly grabbed it, examined it, then hugged it thoughtlessly to his chest. All of his features softened. His firmed up walls gave way to the sudden shock and relief that he’d not only left something so precious to him without realizing it but also got it back out of the kindness of Sicheng and Yuta’s hearts. Ah… Taeyong wanted so badly to not cry. “Thanks.”

From his pocket Sicheng pulled out an embroidered handkerchief and handed it over. 

Taeyong took it with a softer thanks than the previous one and dabbed beneath his eyes. Unfolding it, he noticed the pattern of gray bunnies and yellow chicks that peppered each corner, connected by a helix pattern of gold that contrasted the deep red base nicely. The buns made sense, Taeyong quirked a slightly trembling brow upward. 

“It’s a nickname,” Sicheng explained as he took it back. “Or maybe an inside joke,” he shrugged. “Something of the sort. Can I do anything to help you feel better?”

“I’m feeling fine.”

“Your mumbling and the tears stuck to your cheeks tell me otherwise.” Sicheng tapped his cheek thoughtfully and then pressed on straight away. “But you don’t have to tell me until you’re ready. We’re all here for you though, I hope you know that.”

 _”I do,_ was what he should’ve said. But Gods above he just couldn’t find it in him right now. And though he knew his soft swallow and tiny nod wasn’t enough, it was the best he could do for now. 

Sicheng blessed him with soft silence for the rest of their car ride. He didn’t even look at him, just gazed between the emails on his phone and the familiar scenery outside the window. Taeyong, too, wanted to distract himself with his phone but the text messages from the Kitten’s Grin crew still lingered. Swiping them away felt wrong, but seeing them left him sick. A lose-lose situation. 

Shuffling inside the doors, Taeyong ducked his head low and made it as far as the common area when a deep voice stopped him. 

“Taeyong!” 

He gasped, staggered back, looking up to Jaehyun only when he managed to straighten out his posture. “H-hey.”

“Hey.” A dimpled smile greeted him back but it soon gave way to obvious worry. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Tired?” Jaehyun looked to Sicheng.

“Had a bit of trouble getting over here. No worries though.”

Taeyong looked back to him, head tilting, until the look Sicheng sent to him straightened him back out. The lie they now shared. But why? Swallowing, Taeyong just turned back to Jaehyun and nodded. 

“We don’t have to meet right away. Why not take a few to get ready, maybe have some coffee? Before lunch we can meet for a refitting.” 

“Before lunch sounds good.” Taeyong shot Jaehyun a smile as tired as he felt (hopeful it didn’t betray any of his other emotions). 

Before lunch, after Taeyong downed a few cups of coffee and struggled not to fall asleep on top of his own clothing designs out of distress. He kept checking the clock, finding himself more and more anxious as the minutes ticked on. 

When the time came, Taeyong slowly shuffled his way back to Jaehyun’s office and raised his hand to knock on the door.

“Wait, wait!” Sicheng hurried outside, hands outstretched, reliant on the doors clicking closed in time, wincing when it failed.

“Why my new model of all people?” Jaehyun’s voice dipped lower than Taeyong had ever heard it before-- actually no, it wasn’t lower. It was darker. “I thought you were too busy vying after Ten?”

In the pause for Johnny’s unheard reply, Taeyong looked to Sicheng. 

“H-how? How does he…”

The other sighed. “Johnny called him.”

“But why?”

“He--”

“Don’t you know that I’m trying to protect him and his reputation? You putting your hands on him doesn’t help that!” Jaehyun’s voice boomed louder than Taeyong and all their soft exchanges ever thought it could. It was then that Sicheng finally returned his hand to the door knob and let them both inside. There was no point trying to hide their truth. He resigned to their reality.

Jaehyun had pulled his phone from his ear, struggling not to crush the damn thing in his frustration. And like this, the group of them could hear Johnny’s staticy hum and his casual, “Can’t help that I like a pretty face.” 

“Goodbye, Jonathan.” Both of Jaehyun’s hands slammed on his desk as he turned away. “God that…”

“Jaehyun,” Sicheng called from where he and Taeyong both and pressed themselves against the farthest wall.

The brunette turned, expression shattering when he saw none other than the man they’d been talking about. His lips parted.

“I’m sorry!” Taeyong cut in. “I didn’t know w-who… who he is, I just--”

“Breathe.” Both of Sicheng’s hands fell onto his shoulders. 

Wide, panicked eyes darted up and then over, back and forth until they found safety in the floor. “H-how do you know him? I didn’t want to know before but...” 

“Maybe you should,” Sicheng supplied, but he wasn’t looking at Taeyong. Glasses rimmed eyes instead implored their third counterpart to step up to the plate here. Give Taeyong the answers he needed. 

Jaehyun sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Johnny’s one of the main judges for WWFS. He’s… probably the most influential out there, actually. He can make you or break you on the entries.”

But Taeyong knew everything about the show, didn’t he? “Why wouldn’t I recognize him then?”

“He tries to stay out of the spotlight. It’s a weird catch 22 with him. Everyone who’s anyone inside the industry knows him and wants dirt on him. His name is pretty publicly renowned but not his looks because of it. I’m sure you’ve heard bits and pieces about Seo Youngho.” 

“O-oh,” Taeyong swallowed and took a step back. “And that’s…”

“Yep. If he introduced himself as Johnny then at least you can feel special? He only busts that name out when he likes you.”

Taeyong only felt played. But also... not? Johnny wasn’t using his status or prestige on him. He just… He put his head into his hands, ran his fingers through his hair in place of gripping the strands tight. Breathe. It wasn’t his voice ringing through his ears but Sicheng’s, and then Yuta’s. Breathe. Breathe. Taeyong straightened again.

“It doesn’t look like anyone saw the two of you together besides Yuta. And Yuta wouldn’t be caught dead with a tabloid. I think you’re very safe.”

“That’s a relief.” Jaehyun’s shoulders slackened. “Johnny really isn’t a bad dude. He just does things his way no matter who he’s doing them with. It can get others in trouble, even if his reputation remains intact. I… That’s the last thing I want for you, Taeyong.”

Taeyong nodded slowly. 

“Did you... have a nice night though?”

“Jaehyun!”

The brunette swallowed and waved his hands before his shoulders. “I-... I just mean… Johnny can be a fun time so, I just, uh…”

“Jaehyun,” Sicheng repeated, tone sharp. But he was also rolling his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. But I guess if anyone knows how fun Johnny can be it’s you, huh?”

And now Taeyong grew pale because what did that mean?

Jaehyun let out a firm huff through his nose, exposed and flustered with no time to cope with it all. He cleared his throat, spun around on his heels and adjusted his tie. Then, when he turned back, he clapped his hands together, hiding his feelings with the smile he slapped onto his lips. “Anyway! Today is the fun day. It’s photoshoot day. Let’s forget about tall, dark, and handsome devils and have a good time.” He extended a hand out to Taeyong. “Shall we?”

How Taeyong hadn’t noticed the small, glass encased studio space at the top of the building was beyond him. The roof had been empty every other day, or at least Taeyong swore that had been the case. As they walked up the stairs and out onto the white cement Taeyong squinted to find the set up despite the bright midday sun, Sicheng trailing behind him with armfulls of Taeyong’s train and accessories. 

“When did this happen?” Taeyong turned his head to ask and misstepped. His skills in heels were still pretty lacking, especially on uneven ground.

“Careful!” Sicheng tried to tuck all the fabric and things under his arm to catch Taeyong properly. Jaehyun beat him to it. 

Taeyong looked up, face to face, with his savior. His breath hitched. 

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked in a gentle tone. 

“I… yeah. Where did you come from?” 

“I was following behind you both,” Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle. “Good thing too. Couldn’t have my model mess up his face right before our big shoot.” 

Taeyong let out a soft sigh. He missed Jaehyun’s humor. 

“Have you always been so light?” Jaehyun set him upright again, giving Taeyong a once over. 

“Have I?”

“Hey you two, we still have a job to do,” Sicheng cut in.

“Right, we do.” Jaehyun brushed Sicheng’s snide remark off his shoulders and offered Taeyong an arm. “Shall we?”

“You’re getting better in stilettos.” Sicheng admired, slowly unfurling the long, sheer train coming out from beneath Taeyong’s sparkling black corset. 

Taeyong started to turn back, wanting to say thanks, but Jaehyun pulled him forward again. “No tripping.”

“R-right.” He glanced over to apologize but was met with a smile. That’s when he realized they were just at the same height. “Woah.”

“Do you like being tall?”

“Do you like being a mindreader?” Taeyong replied before his brain caught up to him. “I-- I mean it’s kinda cool to see the world up here. To not have to look up at you.” 

“I can’t say the same.” Jaehyun slowly started to unloop their arms. “I’m still looking you all the way down. This outfit looks like it was made for you. Though,” he jokingly brushed over both shoulders. “I guess it was. Can you give me a twirl?”

Taeydong did just that, stepping carefully to avoid his train… or a loose piece of concrete; really anything that could send him back to the ground. The outfit though, once he got over his nervousness in the shoes, really was everything. The corset around his midsection cinched him tighter than he thought possible. Billowing from the top was a wide open v-neck in a sheer black and white striped fabric that draped over the middle of his shoulders, looking like it was ready to slip from his skin but fit _just_ right enough to keep completely in place. And the sleeves came in two ways--falling off of his arms like a kimono with a second layer of deep red burgundy wrapped tight around his arm, coming to a point at his middle finger. The palette of wine, black, and white was not something Taeyong usually wore because he feared it would clash with his bright blue hair but Jaehyun (and Sicheng who glossed his lips, lined his eyes in white and black, and dotted his cheeks in fake freckles and small jewels) made it work.

Taeyong had never felt this high fashion _and_ this comfortable. Jaehyun had really listened to him and his issues. He turned to him and bowed his head. “Thank you.”

“For what? Sicheng poached you off the street. You’re helping us.” Jaehyun smiled. “Are the shorts okay? I know they’re pretty high cut.” 

“They’re fine.”

“And the boots?”

“Also fine.” Though Taeyong was hiking them up his thighs as he spoke. 

Jaehyun chuckled. “I think I can figure out how to fix that too.” Then he turned to Sicheng. “Do you like the stoned fishnets? I felt like it made up for the lack of stark white in the outfit but now I’m not so sure.”

Sicheng stepped up to his side, hands still full of things. “We haven’t accessorized yet, Sir. But I think we should keep them. The sun’s pretty low for the day, imagine how it’ll look under the stage lights. I think you should keep them but let me jack him up first before you decide.”

With another nod from Jaehyun, Sicheng descended upon Taeyong. A choker was clasped high around his neck, rings were slipped over his fingers, and Taeyong was sure that there wasn’t an inch of his ear that didn’t have something poked into or dangling from it. When he stepped back the March Hare’s face lit up. “Taeyong,” he said gently, taking his hands into his own.

“Yeah?”

“Remember how we felt the night you won Yuta’s bar show? Remember how you looked?”

Taeyong nodded.

“That has nothing on you today. You’re going to eat that stage up, trust me.” 

Sicheng squeezed their hands and then went back to Jaehyun’s side. “You’ll see it in the photos!” He called. “Just do what feels right, okay?” 

Behind the camera Jaehyun gave a thumbs up. Eye glued to the viewfinder he added, “Whenever you’re ready!”

Taeyong took a few breaths. His hands ran over the faux leather on his neck, the metal in his ears, the coarseness of his corset. They denied him a look at himself before coming out so he could only go on his feelings and their instruction. Well, that and he spent his last free night reading up on modeling tips. Some of the best could strike one hundred poses in a minute. He wasn’t going to try for that but maybe half.

He met Sicheng’s eyes and read his face. Dress up, make up, sex up. Taeyong had two out of three. He took in a slow inhale then gave a thumbs up.

Taeyong used the chair in the center of their little set up as his first prop. He placed the sole of his boot on the seat, hand on his hip, chin tilted upward. He pivoted his body fast, turned sideways to the camera, and let his head fall back. Then he twisted until he was three-quarters towards the camera and gave the three looks: a passive side eye, a direct stare, and a downward smoulder. Okay… what next.

Taeyong spun inwards and sat in the chair. Pose one: body straight as a board, one hand at his cheek, one wrapped tight around his torso. Legs crossed, then then opened wide so he could melt forward, crawling down the expanse of his fishnetted thighs until soft hands pulled his knees inward again. 

“Good!” Jaehyun called, shooting his thumb into the air above him. “Gimme more!”

 _More…_ He shifted in the seat and draped his arm along the back. One leg extended, his body fell back. He snapped inward again and put a hard arch into his posture, rounding his shoulders as forward as they could go. But the chair made him feel stiff. It, itself, was hard white plastic and Taeyong felt like he could only do so much with it. New idea: he kicked it away.

This gave him the whole of their small studio set up to work with now. He stepped back, hoping to contrast the white and red diamond checkered backdrop with the black of his clothes. His arms shot out, stayed there for a moment, then up. He let his head fall back--though not too far back that the camera couldn’t catch his eyes--and he stared through lowered lids. His teeth sunk into his lip. Sex up. He felt like he had it right, right now. 

He had one other idea. At the side of the set were some black lace curtains. Their intent was to block off the sight of the buildings around them but now they were all over Taeyong’s body. He was careful, of course. He had an outfit he needed to show off. That’s why he wrapped his leg around the fabric and clutched it to his chest, showing off the silhouette of the outfit and the lines of the sleeves. He set his leg down again before he lost balance and brought the curtain around his neck, facing Jaehyun full on again with a flash of his teeth. 

Taeyong twirled up in the black lace and then… that was it. He broke face and started laughing. “I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted with pinched brows. Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t pushed the chair away because he was feeling the effects of such high heels on his poor feet. Taeyong shifted his weight between them, giving one heel a break at the expense of another and then swapping. “Any ideas?” No one replied to him. “Help?”

But Jaehyun was poured over his camera and Sicheng hovered over his shoulder. They seemed too captivated to hear him-- or at least Taeyong hoped because he wasn’t sure how well he’d handle them ignoring him. Taeyong tried again, “Guys?”

“Oh!” Sicheng perked up and pulled away, hurrying towards their model and offering him a hand. “Here, I’ve got you.” He gathered up both Taeyong and the chair and led them both over to where Jaehyun was still scrolling through photos.

“Take a seat, Taeyong.” 

God it felt nice to be off his feet. Taeyong was still trying to be mindful of the clothes he was wearing, so he didn’t fully melt into a pile of fabric, but he did slump a little. “How was it?” 

Oh, what he wouldn’t give to at least hide the fear he felt from his own voice.

Jaehyun finally turned to him and beamed. “These shots are great. You really know how to work a camera.”

“And a runway,” Sicheng chimed in with a wink towards Taeyong. “Do we need anymore Jaehyun?”

“Just some closeups on the details. The corset pattern, the train, the sleeves, and his face… I think that should be it.” 

These shots were easier. Taeyong was able to sit for half of them and Jaehyun had a vision so all he had to do was pose the way he was told. He let out a groan, both hands falling on his cinched waist. He bent over to breathe. “It’s not too tight but… Oh my god it’s hard to wear this for so long,” he huffed. Should he be corset training too? That on top of a light diet felt like a lot even to him. But for Jaehyun’s victory, maybe he should suck it up. 

It wasn’t until he was back in Jaehyun’s office that he was finally freed of everything. He made sure the boots came off first, fishnet covered feet sinking into the plush of Jaehyun’s carpet with minimal relief. He asked for the corset next because even though the shorts did threaten chafing, he was far happier with that than feeling his ribs squish any longer. Sicheng pulled the pieces off of him and Jaehyun gathered them up to fold and rest atop his desk. 

Taeyong let out a soft sigh. Sicheng was making his way to his next schedule, but Taeyong stopped him with a soft, “Hey.”

“Hey?” Sicheng turned back from the door and Jaehyun tilted his head.

“I’m sorry about last night. And this morning. Are you sure you’re not upset with me?”

“Not at all, Taeyong,” Sicheng replied, but then his eyes looked to Jaehyun. They weren’t demanding anything, but they were curious. 

Jaehyun simply shook his head. “You work here and you model for us but we don’t own you or anything. Just as long as you’re okay.” There was a moment of pause before Jaehyun asked, “You are okay, right?”

“I am.” Taeyong paused, then added a very quick, “right now.”

Sicheng shot him a smile and then hurried out the door. It just left him with Jaehyun now, whose eyes had trailed back to his desk. He was touching his outfit. “Hey Taeyong, can I ask you a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Do you like it?” 

Taeyong blinked. He wasn’t sure if he was hearing things right but was Jaehyun sounding-- shy? “Of course I do!” He exclaimed in a tone higher than he meant to, but he wanted to _really_ convey his love of Jaehyun’s work. “It’s one of the best things I’ve ever worn. Ever. Jaehyun what you made is perfect.” 

“Yeah? You think?” Dimples poked into Jaehyun’s cheeks. “I know it’s no White Rabbit so, you know, I just wanted to make sure. We’ll probably be up against him. He hasn’t submitted sketches yet but he usually does that last minute.” Jaehyun rolled his eyes and laughed jovially. “It’s just his thing.” 

Taeyong felt his mouth run dry-- or, actually he thought that he would at the mention of his favorite fashion designer; but actually, he felt fine. No, more than fine. He kind of felt excited? White Rabbit may be his favorite but Mad Hatter was a force to be reckoned with. Taeyong may be in love with the bunny but the madman had done him well. He’d done him well in a lot of ways… Taeyong cleared his throat and decided not to dwell on that. 

Instead, he basked in the honest shyness that he felt emanating off of Jaehyun and the comfort he felt because of it. It was nice to know that Taeyong wasn’t the only one anxious about this whole thing. So, he took Jaehyun’s hands in his and squeezed them gently. “It’s better than White Rabbit,” he replied with a sure nod.

“Really?”

“I love his work, sure, but this was made for me. It was made for us. That’s more important than any old infatuation.” 

Jaehyun’s expression lit up. 

“Plus,” Taeyong continued. “It’d be cool to meet him, but it’ll be even cooler to beat him. That’s what I want to do.”

[⌜Go Again⌟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329272/chapters/65154319)

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🐇

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[⌜Carry on...⌟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329272/chapters/65154172)  
  
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	8. The King of Hearts: Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's a little rough around the edges, but he'll treat you like a king.

Taeyong rolled over, body pressing into a warm outline in the sheets. The curtains were too dark to let the morning’s light through but Taeyong’s internal clock took care of him nicely, picking up the slack while his phone lay lifeless besides him. He inhaled slowly, letting a sleepy brain process the scent of crisp cotton and expensive cologne. His hand stretched out over the expanse of the bed, fingers pressing into the taut sheets before crawling back beneath a far too soft pillow. Taeyong was remembering now… broad shoulders and nice chest, strong arms, a warm body. They’d torn this hotel room apart together last night. Now it was morning.

And he was all alone.

He let out a groan that melted into a yawn. His hand rubbed down the imprint of Johnny’s form in the starch sheets before seeking out his phone and the charger cord coming out of the wall. He plugged it in and waited for it to spring back to life.

Message after message rolled in, flashing Sicheng and Yuta’s names amongst them, but the last one was from the man himself who was supposed to be at Taeyong’s side. 

_I’ve ordered you breakfast. It’ll come as soon as you wake up. Text me?_

Taeyong squinted and cocked a brow. Somehow it seemed too good to be true and also heartbreaking. Taeyong didn’t like waking up alone. 

But his fingers did tap out a message eventually and as soon as it was sent--or at least it felt like that--there was a knock on the door. Oh… Taeyong didn’t think about that. He peeled himself from the bed and looked around for his jeans until he remembered that jeans sucked to put on in a dark. He opted for a robe from the closet instead. The server wheeled a whole platter into the room, pulling back the cloche to reveal eggs, rice, toasted bread, and some sweet pastries. There was a note pointed out to him that read ‘I didn’t know what you’d like, so I hope you enjoy it all.’ Taeyong started for his wallet to tip but was told it was already taken care of.

“Enjoy your meal,” then the door was shut again. 

Taeyong poked around the plate of food, taking occasional bites in between reading text messages and summoning the will to respond to them. They kept asking him if he was okay. His head didn’t hurt, his body wasn’t sore. His heart felt a little tight, some residual nervousness at being left on his own mixed with something else that he didn’t quite want to admit to. He said he was okay, and the more he repeated it the more he let himself feel it to be true. It was okay. 

He was okay.

He said such to Sicheng when he checked up on him at work that afternoon. Sicheng didn’t seem to believe him, though. At least, the way he looked at Taeyong with questioning and concern made Taeyong feel that way. “Just be careful, okay? Johnny’s a… people person. As in, he likes to spend time with a lot of people in a lot of ways. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“I won’t,” Taeyong reassured, telling that to Sicheng as much as he was telling himself. Johnny could be a ‘people person’ and Taeyong could be Taeyong. They didn’t even need to have more than last night.

But his phone rang a few days later with Johnny on the other end, asking Taeyong out to dinner. Between the two of them--Taeyong realized as he slipped into Johnny’s car--they’d never fit in anywhere. Taeyong looked nice but in streetwear and Johnny had on a beige colored suit. “I can change if we’re going somewhere fancy,” he said, laughing lightly to get out some of his anxiousness. 

“Oh, nowhere fancy. I promise.”

But they must have had different definitions of the word because a 5-star restaurant tucked away in the corner of a nice hotel was definitely what Taeyong would call ‘fancy.’ No matter, because they were already here and as they were walked to their seat Taeyong clocked plenty of plain t-shirts and ripped jeans to make him feel better. 

“This is one of my favorite places in the city,” Johnny explained as they were given their menus.

“Why’s that?”

“Well… It sounds pretty crazy but,” His voice trailed and he flipped his menu around, finger tapping an item selection forwards the top. “They’re the only place with Chicago style pizza. Have you ever had it?”

“Never even heard of it.”

“Taeyong, it’s _everything._ Will you please have some with me?”

Taeyong’s lips pulled into a smile. Johnny was suave and put together, rich and rather classy, and he was grinning like a kid in a candy store over a pizza dish. When they were served Taeyong realized that Johnny probably needed someone to finish it more than he wanted to share the experience. It was huge! Taeyong even inched a little further in his seat just to peer at the top. 

“It gets better, watch,” Johnny grabbed the handle of the server and oh so slowly pulled one piece away from the rest, string and string of hot, melted cheese stretching endlessly until he had the pizza on a plate and could gather it up. “Here you go.” 

“This isn’t pizza,” Taeyong protested in jest, picking up his fork and knife. “This can’t be. I don’t believe you.”

“It is, I swear!” Johnny’s voice lilted into something mixed with a whine and a pout. “It’s all the elements of a pizza, just a different order.”

“Whatever you say.” But Johnny was right, it was delicious. And seeing this side of Johnny--this playful, silly soul wrapped up in a big, professional and serious looking person--felt really nice. It was like Taeyong was privy to something private and special, even if they’d only met twice.

A slice and a half of this ‘pizza’ had taken Taeyong out. He leaned back in his chair and regretted wearing jeans _and_ a belt. Even if they were surrounded by tourists he wouldn’t dare loosen any part of his outfit. He’d rather suffer and die. 

“Doing okay?” 

While Taeyong focused on his own suffering Johnny had gotten and paid the check. That jolted him upright. “W-wait, I wanted to split it with you.”

“It’s no trouble. I invited you out with the intent of treating you. One pizza isn’t going to set me back.”

Judging by Johnny’s tailored suits and sports car, Taeyong knew that to be true. 

“Doing okay?” Johnny asked again. “You look like you’re ready to explode.”

“That’s definitely because I am,” Taeyong laughed at his own expense. “But I’m okay.”

“Good,” Johnny reached across the table and took Taeyong’s hand. “So then… Would you want to stick around the hotel a little longer?”

“Longer?” Taeyong looked around the restaurant. They’d finished eating, so what else could they do here-- Oh! “Oh!” 

Johnny raised a brow, a smile one his lips and a laugh bubbling up in his chest. “Oh?”

“Sure!” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong shifted his hand a bit to hold Johnny’s properly. “I’d love to.”

As his relationship with Johnny grew closer, his time spent with Sicheng and Jaehyun felt strained. They’d still work well. The time spent on his fittings or his modeling practice was filled with jokes and banter, but when that ended it would be over. Taeyong returned to his office and did not see them until the next day. 

When he thought about it, he’d gone from sleeping with his boss--already a bad idea--to dating a show judge--probably an even worse idea. And yet, everytime he convinced himself it was time to cut it off Johnny would text him again and Taeyong would be back in the leather seats of his car. 

Night after night until it came time for the show.

He wore Caterpillar and Co.’s outfit. He’d won the runway. But it only felt so good? Johnny met his eyes from the judges table and looked just as proud as he did… pleased, it seemed. Once Taeyong stepped off the stage, Johnny was even there to greet him. They wrapped their arms around each other. Taeyong buried his face in Johnny’s chest, inhaled his musky, expensive scent, and he felt uncomfortable. Undeservedly so, a little bit. He took a step back from Johnny and took his hands with his own. “Thank you,” he said as softly and as seriously as he could. “I want to go see my team. I’ll call you later?”

“Call me whenever you want,” Johnny brought the back of Taeyong’s hand to his lips and gave him a quick peck. “See you later, babe.”

Ignoring the whispers shared between the few people still lingering (the few who saw Johnny and Taeyong act like… like that), Taeyong saw Johnny off and then hurried back to the main stage, looking out into the crowd. He just wanted their praise. Their approval. He’d won, but did that mean he’d done well by the ones who had given him this chance in the first place? Johnny wouldn’t be able to tell him that. 

“Damn,” Taeyong hissed under his breath. 

Jaehyun and Sicheng were gone. 

Taeyong returned to his dressing room on his own. He changed on his own. He said goodbye to the staff on his own. Johnny happened to be in the lobby as he made his way out and they decided to leave together for some impromptu ‘celebrations.’ It was nice, but it wasn’t exactly what Taeyong wanted either. He was only realizing this now. After dinner that night Taeyong declined an invitation to another hotel in hopes of hearing something from the others. 

His phone stayed silent that night.

Taeyong returned to his hostel the same way he left--on his own and uneasy. He told himself maybe tomorrow would be better, whether he spent it only with Johnny (likely) or could see the others (hopefully) he would do his best to feel better.

He never thought it’d be so bittersweet.

_-End-_


	9. The White Queen

These butterfly-like feelings fluttering around his stomach were something Taeyong wanted to hold on to, and he felt successful all throughout the rest of the work day and into his trip home. It was just after that, when he’s surrounded by people but feeling utterly alone in the six-bed room of his hostel, that he loses sight of those good feelings.

All of the little things started piling up: the cost of the hostel, the time he last left in his stay, the fact that he does need to go home eventually (because he did tell his mom he would and he didn’t like going back on the promises he makes to her). Then, on top of it, the fear of being too new that it ruins Caterpillar and Co.’s chances in the show. What if he doesn’t _really_ capture the feeling of Mad Hatter’s designs? What if he’s not handsome enough? What if he trips? Taeyong took a look over himself. Every day he kept telling himself to diet and every day he forgot, or slipped up on a drink or a meal at Yuta’s. 

In reality, they were little things. They didn’t make any impact. But in Taeyong’s stressed, lonely brain, they felt like the end of the world-- or worse, the end of his time as part of the Caterpillar and Co. team. _‘All good things do come to an end,’_ he tried to reason with himself. He just wanted it to be a good end. 

What felt worse, as if Taeyong couldn’t feel any lower, was that he _knew_ he could seek company and comfort. Maybe not Jaehyun… but if he texted Sicheng they could share a phone call and if Yuta got wind that Taeyong wasn’t feeling well he’d bug him until Taeyong showed up at Kitten’s Grin. But Taeyong felt too sad to go. He felt too sad to talk to people when he didn’t have to (read: when he actually wanted to). Instead, he just stared at the ceiling above him until his buzzing phone drew his attention away. 

Yuta sent him another flyer.

_Because WWFS is so soon we’re hosting more amateur shows. Come win again if you’re not too busy! Here’s the theme._

“Fairies?” Taeyong read outloud. He glanced over towards the direction of his suitcases. He had some pieces that could work for fairy looks. 

_Spots are filling up fast so let me know if you’re interested!_

Taeyong typed out a reply, then deleted it, then tried again. He rethought what to say to Yuta three times before finally sending a simple: _Thanks! I’ll let you know asap!_

Except, now he had to make a decision in the very near future and that made his heart race. Taeyong rolled onto his side and drew his knees to his chest. Sicheng would want him to try again. Or would he not because they were getting so close to the show? Should he ask him? Taeyong unlocked his phone again and jumped from Yuta’s text thread to Sicheng’s. Right at the top he saw the spam of messages from the last time he went, and won. Sicheng had been so proud of him. Taeyong really didn’t want to ruin that. 

Back at work nothing felt wrong. His own design was almost done. Taeyong just needed to stone the half cage and the centers of his accent bows. He continued to go back and forth on fishnets-- Jaehyun’s look had them and Taeyong didn’t want to copy. He let out a huff, falling back into his seat with fabric glue in one hand and a handful of crystals in the other. Taeyong glanced over to the clock. Forty minutes until his next model practice session. _Noted._ Next to that was a pile of scrap fabric. _Enough to make stockings,_ Taeyong decided. Maybe he could request help on some pleather garters too. Taeyong poured the crystals back into their box and set to work. Forty minutes. He could do this. So much to do, so little time--it’s why things were better here. He was distracted here. He could pretend things weren’t scary here.

Despite it being way late into the evening, Sicheng caught him on his way out with a gentle hand on his arm and a soft tug away from the door so other people could pass. “Hey, did Yuta text you?”

“Oh, yeah! He did. Why?”

“Are you going to do his show?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Taeyong looked away and carefully freed his arm of the March Hare’s hold. “Do you think I should?”

“Only if you want.” Sicheng smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Practice is important but I don’t want to burn you out. Yuta asked me if I talked to you about it so here’s me talking to you about it.”

Taeyong’s feet shifted beneath him. “That’s nice of Yuta. I’ll make up my mind before the end of tomorrow for sure.”

“If you choose to do it and need help I’m here, okay? Our last outfit was unstoppable so I think we could do it again.”

“You really?” Taeyong started to ask softly but quickly caught himself and pivoted. “I, uh, I actually had some ideas with the clothes I bought, too, so I’ll be thinking hard tonight.”

“Just let me know. Are you busy tonight? Would you want to go to dinner?”

Wow, Taeyong really did. But though that want was strong, the guilt was stronger. “I’m a little tired tonight and I have some more stoning I want to get done.” He nodded towards the big bag hanging off his arm. “Maybe later?”

“Any time you want Taeyong. Just say the word.”

But he couldn’t. Taeyong couldn’t ‘just say the word’ no matter how badly he wanted to. That’s why he went home that night and turned down an offer for lunch the next day. 

He hadn’t made up his mind on the competition either-- or rather, his heart wanted to do it but his mind was telling him one hundred reasons not to. Like, what if that first win was a fluke? And he wasn’t actually good at modeling, just lucked out enough to score high. There’s a term for that, right? Ah, beginner’s luck! And what if he went and made a fool of himself? Would people recognize him at the Show? Would it hurt his future chance? 

All throughout the afternoon he kept unlocking his phone, reading over Yuta’s text, and then locking it again. Yuta eventually disrupted this pattern, asking him again, and in a moment of heart-racing panic Taeyong tapped out a quick _’Yep!’_ Taeyong groaned and put his head on the table. What did he just do…?

Taeyong tore through his suitcase three times over and found _nothing._ Or, well, he did set a few things to the side-- some brightly colored tops and interested accessories mostly. And a beanie. He didn’t have any light colored pants. And though he knew that ‘fairies’ didn’t have to mean iridescence and pastels, he couldn’t hop off his one-track thoughts, he couldn’t pivot to something dark or gothy; which left him feeling ill and uncomfortable in what he did dress his body with. At least the glitter that his stranger-slash-roommate let him borrow for his eyes and cheeks made him feel a little more ready to go.

Taeyong hoped he would feel better walking up far too familiar cobblestone and into an alcove filled with sparkles and pastels. Among his people and all that-- struck by the magic of this facet of the fashion world. He took in a breath through his nose and held it. His own look didn’t stand out too terribly-- but that was a thing, too, wasn’t it? It _didn’t_ stand out compared to the eclectic group of people Taeyong was now looking at. Maybe he should’ve taken Sicheng’s offer to dig through Caterpillar and Co.’s closet. Maybe it was too pompous of him to think that just his own clothing would be a good enough base for something like Yuta’s show. Curling his fingers into a light fist Taeyong tapped at his forehead, like he could jostle his brain awake with an action as simple as that. Though it wasn’t like he had the time to leave, change, and come back.

Taeyong didn’t make it inside. Before he could get close enough that Donghyuck could berate him for even waiting in line in the first place Taeyong chickened out. A glimpse of himself in the reflection of a closed bakery window set him off. He felt like he was swimming in his clothes despite how tight his jeans were or how Sicheng had taught him to sinche his waist, his face felt like a mess, he was sweaty and clammy… was his glitter even still on him? It wasn’t right. He didn’t feel right. There was nothing ‘fairy’ about him and even if he could sprout wings he knew he’d rather fly away than be ridiculed on that basement stage tonight. Taeyong used the protection of a group moving between restaurants and bars to hide himself from the bouncers but didn’t end up too far himself. Actually, after tripping while rounding the corner, Taeyong hit the ground and just… stayed there. 

He didn’t want to move. Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the side of Kitten’s Grin all he could think to do was cry. The weight on his shoulders had tumbled onto his heart and finally became too much to manage. Down here, he could lie to himself. He could say he didn’t have to deal with it. Down here he could just… sniffle a little bit, letting warm, mascara dyed tears roll over his cheeks and onto his hands. His lungs grew tight with each sob and yet he finally felt like he was breathing. Finally, even if just a moment of reprieve. 

And only a moment it was because a soft voice asking and even softer “Hey,” pulled him immediately out of his self pitying. He glanced up with heavy eyes and a heart feeling somehow heavier thanks to the guilt of being caught crying in public. He had to squint, too, because there was just enough sun left to be blinding him. Taeyong lifted a hand to block it out until the other man sank down to his level and blessed Taeyong with the shadows cast by his body.

It was the same masked model from the first show. This time he sported bright pink, embroidered with cherry blossom detailing. Taeyong couldn’t stop himself from giving the man a once over just to see what type of fairy look he pulled together (and maybe assess how much better than Taeyong’s it was). He wasn’t surprised to note incredible details like the glitter that slicked back his hair or the see-through chiffon pleated skirt that fell over ripped, acid wash jean colored fishnets tucked into iridescent converse. Taeyong even dared to reach out and feel the shiny material that made up the man’s moto jacket. He sighed.

“Hey.” The stranger spoke again. He reached out and returned the touch, turning it into a tug at Taeyong’s own sleeve. “You’re the one who won last time right? What are you doing out here? Are you okay?”

On instinct, Taeyong parted his lips with a want to say ‘yes’ and pretend that was true. Instead he choked out an awful sound and ultimately turned his face away.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a no. Okay, uhm,” The man stood and looked around for a moment. “Alright, I got it. Come here.” His arms slipped underneath Taeyong’s. His looks were deceiving. Taeyong wouldn’t have guessed he could lift him up, let alone carry most of his weight away from Kitten’s Grin and into a pie shop tucked away behind it. 

Taeyong didn’t even know this place existed. 

As they settled in a booth towards the back wall and Taeyong stepped outside of his own head enough to take it in, he was stunned that he hadn’t heard of it, and that no one told him about it; especially after taking a menu filled with sweet pie options. 

“See something you like?” The man chuckled, watching Taeyong’s whole being light up.

“Maybe too many things,” Taeyong replied honestly, albeit shyly. He couldn’t really meet the other man’s eyes. He felt like a whole weirdo going from sobbing outside a bar to ogling different dessert types. This man must surely think he’s crazy. And yet, he didn’t seem like he was itching to leave or anything. Though every alarm was going off in his head about being annoying, a nuisance, unfit for company, too green to even be thinking about modeling in the first place, Taeyong steeled his nerves and made their eyes meet. “Can I treat you? Since you brought me here and all.”

He was met with soft chuckles. “It was maybe fifteen steps at most. Not any trouble or anything.”

“N-no matter. You were going to do the show, right? And you’re not so… So I would feel a lot better if I could repay you for your time.”

“If it’ll make you feel better then I won’t turn down a chance at free pie. Do you know what you want?” He set his menu down and slowly started turning his body towards where two waitresses were observing the dining area. 

“N-not yet.” Taeyong held a hand up quickly to stall him. “Do you have any recommendations? They all look good.” But the more he looked, the more that same voice that taunted him late into his nights at the hostel told him he was making a mistake. He was supposed to practice his runway walks, not stuff his face. All at once, Taeyong’s chest felt tight and he was turning the menu in his hands to contemplate a drink instead. Maybe water? That had no calories…

“Well.” The man’s fingers slowly wrapped around the top of the menu and he flipped it back to the pie side. “I’m going to get the pecan one. That gooey, caramel, crunchy one described in the center. Depends on how you’re feeling though. If you want fruit I can’t help you there, but I’ve probably had all of the creamy or chocolate-y ones.” 

“Aren’t you a model though?”

The man’s eyes widened slowly.

“I just mean you do Yuta’s shows so shouldn’t you not...eat...pie… I’m just realizing how weird that sounds and that I’m speaking to someone I don’t know.” Taeyong’s cheeks turned a bright pink that stretched all the way to his ears. “Nevermind.”

“No worries.” The man was laughing again. “You’re right, I do try to model a bit. But a little pie here or there never hurts. I just make sure to keep the rest of me in check but as long as my clothes fit I try not to mind about what I eat. It’s an easy hole to fall into, you know?”

Taeyong nodded slowly. “Yeah, I definitely do.” 

The other gave him a sympathetic smile behind his mask which wouldn’t have been as easy to see if his eyes didn’t crease into crescents when he did so. He let out a hum and somehow Taeyong felt like he’d been completely understood. He didn’t need to say the heavy words on his mind because the other man just got them. For a second he wished that his other friend could be as good-- and then realized how selfish that was.

Taeyong would think about that later, though. For now he had to decide on a pie and eventually went for a banoffee one. He offered to share when their slices came and was immediately rebuffed.

“I hate fruit,” the man said very seriously. 

“H-how?”

“Just do.” He shrugged. “You’ll never see me eating it. Hell, I won’t even pose with it. Any time Yuta has a fruit theme I don’t show up. Sometimes I think he picks them just to get rid of me for a night.”

Taeyong poked around the pie that was set in front of him, still pouting a bit from how firmly he’d been refused, but after taking a bite he asked, “Have you known Yuta for a long time?”

“Mmm.” The man hummed around his fork, mask now down just below his lips to let him eat. “Maybe...” He gently stabbed it back into the pie. His eyes are elsewhere, on the brick wall as though he’s using them to count. “Maybe six years? We got to the city around the same time.”

“Six years? His bar has been around for that long?”

“Well, it wasn’t his at first. He was just working it until the owner wanted to retire. Then he took the place over, paid it off in installments, and made it what it is. The modeling thing has been around since before Yuta took over, though, which is how we met.” 

“Do you model a lot?” 

The man quirked a brow and smirked kitten-like lips. It made Taeyong’s heart flutter and stop at the same time. This was the first time he had seen most of this man’s face, he realized. He’s very attractive; Taeyong wondered why he keeps masks on during a runway show. The longer he went without answering the more Taeyong grew flustered and flushed and when he finally replied it was just a simple, “I do.” 

“So cool. I’m pretty new to the whole thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Taeyong looked down to the pie he was about a third of the way through and started to poke at it tentatively. 

“That’s good.” The man leaned in on his elbow and gave Taeyong a soft smile. “We need new blood in the mix or else it gets boring.” 

Taeyong let out a laugh. “I hope I can be that.” 

The other shrugged. “I’m not worried for you. You’ve already won a pretty tough show, even if it’s just taking place on a foldaway stage in a basement bar. That’s way harder than anything else.”

“What makes you say that?”

“High end fashion gets so repetitive. You’d think that being cutthroat would make designers work harder to think outside of the box but that rarely happens, even when they think they’re trying. The underground shows are all people fueled by their passion and those are who you _always_ have to look out for.” 

Taeyong nodded rather dumbly. He was hooked on every word, though. They sounded sweet coming off of the man’s voice and more than anything else he wanted them to be true. He was fortunate that his passion had taken him this far-- put him on a bus to this city, got him to text Sicheng, kept him at Caterpillar and Co. He could only hope it would carry him all the way; to a victory for the people who had given him so much in so little time. Taeyong took in a breath. He could still feel the other man looking at him and timidly lifted his head to meet his gaze. His tongue dabbed at the corner of his lips. “Do you really think that?”

“I’ve been in this long enough, I feel like I _know_ it for sure. That’s why I keep coming back to Yuta’s shows. Nothing is more exciting than the energy of a room full of people doing something they love. You can really learn a lot. I mean, just watching you last time taught me a lot. And just so you know, I’m absolutely stealing that shoulder move of yours.”

Taeyong snorted so hard he nearly choked on the bite he’d just taken of his pie. “M-mine? Really?” He turned away to clear out his windpipe as the man nudged a glass of water his way. “You can have it, no worries. It’s a gift now.”

“Thanks. I’ll use this gift well I promise.” 

They finished their treats in relative quiet, and after their plates were cleared Taeyong broke it with a soft “Thank you. Really, thank you. I’ve been really stressed out--”

“I can tell.” The other interjected in a soft, teasing tone.

Taeyong swallowed and smiled and continued, “and I didn’t know what I needed to hear but you seemed to say all the right things. I feel a lot better.” 

To Taeyong’s surprise, a hand was extended between them. He took it tentatively and watched, wide eyes, as their fingers laced and he received a gentle squeeze. 

“That’s good,” the other said. “You deserve that. This whole fashion thing can be really rough but there are good people. If you’re friends with Yuta then I feel confident that you’ve found the right group. Let them help you before the industry eats you up, okay?”

Tears started to well up in his eyes. Taeyong had to turn away to squeeze them shut, pray that they wouldn’t fall and ruin what was left of his eye makeup. But a soft chuckle and an even softer, “It’s okay,” pulled them from him quicker than he could catch. Taeyong was offered a napkin and he took it with a nod of thanks before letting out the most awful noise when he blew his nose. 

“God.” He half choked as he tried to inhale through all the snot. That made him laugh. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“Little bit.”

“Hey!” Taeyong faked throwing the napkin back across the small table. He laughed harder now; harder than he had in awhile. Well… no, he laughed a lot when he was with Yuta. And he laughed a lot when Sicheng poked fun at Jaehyun and made him all flustered. Taeyong took a breath, a pause. He was realizing all the ways he needed to restructure his thinking. Now he’d have to _make_ those changes and that was the hard part. Taeyong took the last bit of his pie onto his fork, feeling how his mind made his stomach feel heavier in protest, and ate it as a promise to work harder moving forward. A promise to himself, for himself. He felt _very_ cheesy doing so.

Taeyong paid the bill like he had insisted on doing and as they headed out the door bowed his head in thanks. “I feel like I haven’t thanked you enough,” he said rather sheepishly, shifting his weight between his feet.

“You bought me pie and let me steal your signature catwalk move. I’d say you’ve done more than enough.”

“Well… Thank you, still. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” the man had tugged his mask up over his nose again but his smile was still clear in his features. “I can’t wait for the next time we walk the runway together. Don’t let me down, okay?”

“I-. ah, I won’t!” Taeyong took a glance towards Kitten’s Grin. He didn’t know when their next show would be but, “I promise.”

The man held his pinky out and after a blink and a pause Taeyong took it with a wide smile of his own. “It’s a promise.”

As Taeyong waved him off he realized he never got the other’s name. He thought about calling after him for it, and even took a step forward, but stopped himself before he got too far. They’d see each other again. They were already two for two when it came to meeting at the shows Yuta hosted. He felt confident there would be a third time. Taeyong turned on his heel and made his way back down the stone path and towards the bar. He could go in, but even with all his new found encouragement, he didn’t want to see the show unfold without him. It was better not to set himself back so soon with guilt and jealousy. He pulled out his phone instead. 

He had a few missed texts, all from Sicheng, and though they made Taeyong’s heart start to seize he told himself it was actually okay. He wanted to call Sicheng anyway. 

“Taeyong? Are you okay? Yuta told me he didn’t see you.”

“I’m okay-- Well, actually, I’m okay but I’ve been feeling not okay and I was wondering if, uhm, could you pick me up?”

“Of course. Where are you? Are you safe?”

“Yes, Sicheng, I’m safe,” Taeyong laughed softly. “I’ll meet you in front of the alcove. I’m just by the bar.”

Sicheng said he’d come in fifteen minutes and, in true Sicheng fashion, showed up in ten. He was already fretting over Taeyong when he entered the car, checking over his face, fixing his hair, even adjusting his collar. Taeyong playfully tried to push him off but they both knew he was faking it. He wanted this attention more than anything else right now. 

Finally Sicheng’s hands settled in his own lap and he asked, “Are you okay?”

Taeyong nodded sheepishly.

“What was wrong?” 

“It’s going to sound stupid.” Taeyong glanced up and into a soft look in Sicheng’s eyes that encouraged him to continue. “I’m, uh… I’m scared.”

The car turned a corner and Sicheng took his hand. “I want to hear all about it. Or, at least whatever you feel comfortable sharing, but we’re nearly back to my place and I don’t want to cut you off. Do you mind waiting just a few more minutes?”

“Oh.” Taeyong’s eyes widened slightly. “We’re going to your place?”

“Yes, I thought it’d be better than somewhere public. I figured if you’re hungry we could order something and have a night in but I’m realizing now we’ve never done this and that might be weird.” Sicheng pulled a scowl directed only at himself. “Do you mind?”

“N-no, not at all! That sounds really nice.” First a trip to a pie cafe and now dinner at Sicheng’s apartment? Maybe Taeyong died behind the bar and went to heaven.

Compared to Jaehyun, Sicheng’s home was far more modest. The door was around the corner from where they were dropped off but Taeyong stalled his steps to look at the bright lights and warm colors of the Chinese restaurant that made up the first floor of Sicheng’s building. “It looks nice.” He awed, trying to keep himself from standing and staring close enough to be seen. 

“We could order from here,” Sicheng offered, chuckling at the way Taeyong was starting to drool and wasn’t even realizing it. “I can vouch for their quality. And I’m really good friends with the owner.”

“Are you?” Taeyong’s attention snapped back over, feet following Sicheng around the corner and stepping into the door he unlocked and held open. “That’s so cool. Like a regular?”

“I worked here, actually. When I first came from school they took me in pretty quickly and helped me figure out how to get settled. I try to return what they gave me however I can.”

They climbed up about two flights of stairs when Sicheng pulled his keys out. “It’s this first one the right,” he nodded his head and unlocked the door. Inside felt right. Almost everything was minimal and sleek, like the black leather couch and glass top coffee table, but with accents of fairy tale whimsy like the swirling gold picture frames hanging on deep green and cream colored walls. Stepping out of his shoes, Sicheng placed them on a rack of many similarly styled looking ones and moved straight to the black lace curtains. His view was nice. Not far reaching but enough that the lights of the open restaurants around them shone brightly. Taeyong was a little sad to see it go away so soon. 

“I’m going to change but then I want to resume our conversation, okay? I haven’t forgotten I swear.”

Taeyong brought his hand to his lips and chuckled gently. “Take your time, really.” He was in no rush and also owed Sicheng a lot for, well, everything. As he waited, Taeyong loosened the belt around his waist and removed his pink studded choker, opting to wrap it around his wrist instead. In the standing mirror across from the couch Taeyong took a second to look himself over. This outfit… he really didn’t know what he was thinking. It was brightly colored, sure, but his pants looked more like he was gearing up for the military with how he had tucked them into his black (bad choice…) boots. Also the non-glittered part of his makeup was too dark. He’d hit some points with the silver ear cuffs Sicheng had swiped from the accessory closet because they gave his own ears an elvish point. But that was about where all the high notes ended. He pulled on the hem of his cropped sweater and at the fishnets underneath and grimaced. Taeyong could do an outfit much better than this.

“Sorry to make you wait.”

Taeyong’s eyes went wide. Never had he seen Sicheng in another other than a well tailored, steam-pressed suit and now Sicheng was in sweats? Sweats _and_ a wide collared top that exposed a lot of his collarbone and hung off one shoulder. His glasses weren’t the ones with the chains, either, but round wire frames that made his face look so… “Cute.” Aw shoot, Taeyong choked himself in shock and turned away to cough it out. 

Sicheng chuckled. “Thank you.”

He took a seat on the other end of the couch and pressed himself nicely into the corner of the back and armrest. “Alright, now talk to me. You’re feeling scared?”

Taeyong nodded. His shoulders started to curve forward but he caught himself and rolled them back. He let his anxiousness out by playing with his fingers instead. He didn’t know where to start but there were four people on his mind specifically so maybe he could start there:

For Sicheng: “I don’t want to let you down. I feel like the whole company’s hopes rest on my performance and I don’t want to mess that up. You all have been working so hard for much longer than I have. I don’t want to be the reason it all falls apart. And _you_ were the one who found me so I feel like I owe it to you most.”

For Jaehyun: “I don’t really know what we were or what he wants to be. I understand his words but maybe I’m misreading it all. I don’t want to lose him as a friend, even if he’s technically my ‘boss.’ I really liked spending time with him and I’m scared that might all go away if the show goes bad.”

For Yuta: “He’s so fun and I’m… not. I try to match his energy when we’re together but what if he sees right through me and thinks I’m fake? He’s been so encouraging this whole time, too. I don’t want to let him down, either.”

And his fourth, himself, of course: “What is my future and does it change if the fashion show goes poorly? I came here hoping for an internship and ended up being a model. It’s… it’s amazing. I don’t want you, or anyone else, to think that I’m taking this for granted. But if it doesn’t last, what do I do? Do I just go home? Can I even try again? Everything feels like so much and maybe one wrong step will set me back. I don’t even know where back is so-...” He finally took a breath, sighing, and looked to the floor. “I’m scared.”

“Oh Taeyong,” Sicheng moved across the couch until both arms could wrap around Taeyong. He brought him to his chest. “A lot has changed in not a lot of time. That is pretty scary, huh? And you’ve been going through it all alone, too.”

Taeyong turned his head. He was grateful Sicheng wasn’t in one of his nice suits right now because, if he needed to, he could cry without as much guilt. “That’s the other thing though,” he said much softer now. “I could’ve talked to any of you at any point and I didn’t. My brain just made you all so scary. And so... not worth bothering with all my troubles.” He shook his head side to side. “I feel pretty bad about that, too.”

Sicheng’s hand found its way into Taeyong’s hair and he started running his fingers through soft blue strands. “I can’t _really_ speak for the others but I feel like I’ve known my friends long enough to say that they wouldn’t feel bothered at all. Jaehyun is a little hard to read behind his Mad Hatter facade but he’s soft and squishy like a marshmallow. I’m pretty sure if he knew you were feeling all of these things he might start crying.”

Taeyong snorted. “Really?”

He tried to pull away but Sicheng gently forced his head back into his chest. “Really. And then Yuta… he’s a tease, but he’s also one of the best listeners in the whole damn world. He hires only good people too, so even though I haven’t had any late night heart to hearts with Donghyuck, Mark, Jeno, or Jaemin, I’m sure they’d be there for you too if they knew you needed it.”

“I know.” Taeyong sighed. “I’ve even had some close conversations with Yuta too but… Guh…” Taeyong groaned. Why was his brain so stupid? The bartender was busy one night and Taeyong took it personally. A half hour of no talking and he drinks too much and goes home with a stranger. Who had he become?

Well… whoever that person was, Taeyong doesn’t want to be him now. Sicheng is still running his fingers through his hair. Quietly, without a need to rush, and even when Taeyong spoke again. “I’m sorry about Johnny.”

That makes Sicheng slow his touch. “What do you mean?”

“I should’ve been smarter. I should’ve known who he was or, at the very least, like… not just gone to a hotel with him. I feel like I caused trouble for Jaehyun. And you, too, of course.”

“Oh, no.” Sicheng’s voice trailed, though, and it made Taeyong feel a little nervous. Him shaking his head didn’t help much either. “I mean. It’s not _you_ causing trouble, first off. I don’t feel that way and Jaehyun definitely doesn’t either.”

“But he’s so well known, how could I be so stupid?”

“Because Johnny is very smart. He knows who he is and what that can do for him. In a way, maybe it’s less manipulative because he makes sure to hide it. But on the other hand, he’s still lying. Johnny is.” Sicheng paused. His mouth closed but he was swiping his tongue over his teeth in thought. Taeyong knew he was hunting for the right word. “Complicated. He’s complicated and anyone who gets involved with him tends to wind up in a mess that’s also…”

“Complicated,” Taeyong finished for him. 

Sicheng breathed out a laugh. “Very much so.”

“I wish I didn’t go with him that night. I remember Yuta trying to stop me.”

“Hey now. It’s hard but look, sometimes we make decisions we aren’t happy with when they’re done. As long as you’re okay… Are you okay, Taeyong? With all of that?”

Taeyong buried deeper into Sicheng. “He wasn’t mean or anything. I didn’t love that he left the next morning.”

Sicheng let out a thoughtful hum.

“What?”

“What if you told him that?”

“...What?” Taeyong repeated. He drew back to look at Sicheng’s face, and maybe to show Sicheng the confusion on his own.

“It could get it off your chest? You deserve to share your feelings. If you want to, of course. I’m a very forward person so if I don’t talk about what’s on my mind I go crazy. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

Taeyong smiled. He had, but he wouldn’t say it. He just tapped Sicheng lightly with his knuckles. He wasn’t going to say one way or another right now because if he backed out of it he’d feel guilty for letting Sicheng down. So he nodded and muttered something non-committal. If he talked to Johnny, he should talk to Yuta. And if he talked to Yuta, he should talk to Jaehyun. Suddenly he had a day’s worth of conversing ahead of him ( _if_ he could get them all done in a day). He started to grow pale at the thought.

Sicheng caught on quickly, though, and was swift to change the subject. He pushed his phone into Taeyong’s hands, a menu pulled up on his screen. “Let me know what you want. I’ll place the order and we can get it together. The inside is even prettier than the exterior.” He raised his brows and grinned. 

Taeyong scrolled slowly, blinking down dumbly until he was about halfway through the listings and he realized what was happening. He asked Sicheng no fewer than five questions about various dishes before eventually making a decision. Sicheng took his phone back to place the order and Taeyong realized it was the first time he’d heard him use his native language. “Cool,” he breathed out. Sicheng was just too cool.

“Do you speak any other languages?” He asked with a chuckle after hanging up because Taeyong was still looking at him with those bright and starry eyes.

“Well, I started learning Japanese because I used to watch a lot of anime,” Taeyong half muttered, feeling his ears go pink. 

“Don’t tell Yuta that,” Sicheng’s tone dropped into something stern and ominous. They left the couch and headed back towards the doorway to get their shoes. He checked for his wallet and grabbed his keys. (He was really going outside in sweats! Taeyong couldn’t believe it). “He’ll start only speaking to you in Japanese. And _then_ he’ll force you to watch anime marathons where he’ll pause the dvds and make you recite lines with him.”

“Sicheng, that sounds extremely specific.”

“Yes.” Sicheng’s lips pulled into a line. “And trust me, it doesn’t get any more enjoyable the more you have to do it.”

Taeyong laughed loudly and went to ask something else but thought maybe he should leave it alone.

“Let it out, Taeyong.”

“How’d you know?”

“Your nose scrunches whenever you’re sitting on a thought. It’s cute... and a dead giveaway.”

“M-my what does what?” Taeyong brought a hand to his face as if that would help at all. He’d have to worry about that later. For now he conceded with his question. “Which roles did you play?”

Sicheng snorted and opened up the door for them both. “Yuta thinks he’s some big hero so I had to be all the love interests. Everytime. Didn’t even matter who the protagonist was. It got old really fast.” 

As they turn the corner the conversation melts into soft laughter. And when they step inside the restaurant Taeyong is enrobed in awe. It’s really just a restaurant, but the red and gold accents on the walls illuminated by warm neon lights had him captivated all the same. “There’d never be a place like this back home,” he whispered, taking one of the seats in the doorway while Sicheng went up to the hostess. Taeyong felt like he had stepped into a small section of a country he could only dream of visiting one day. 

Sicheng came back with someone else-- an older man with salt and pepper hair and light wrinkles around his smiling eyes. Taeyong stood to greet him, trying not to stammer or blush too hard while Sicheng introduced him as both his ‘new friend’ and his ‘company’s model.’ They shook hands and exchanged a few words until Sicheng stepped to Taeyong’s side and tapped his elbow gently. 

“Come by again, Taeyong,” the man said with a small wave. “Any friend of Sicheng is a friend of ours.” 

Back upstairs they ate a lot. Taeyong didn’t think they’d ordered that much. He also didn’t think he’d be able to eat a meal after that pie but here they were, three empty containers on the coffee table, a plate of scallion pancakes being passed between them, and the offer of bubble tea lingering in the air. 

“I don’t know if I can,” Taeyong whined. He looked at the few pancakes in his hands, then to the nearby space on the table, then back again. “It’s so good though.” He started to grumble.

Sicheng smiled and shook his head. “Whatever you want, Taeyong.”

“I knew you’d say that but it’s not helpful.”

Sicheng barked out a laugh. “Here, here.” He sat up more properly and took the plate and chopsticks from Taeyong’s hands. “We can decide later if we want more.”

Taeyong nodded, then kitten-curled onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest and closing his eyes. “That was so good.”

“Right?” Sicheng hadn’t settled back against the arm rest yet so he took the chance to grab a blanket and throw it onto Taeyong. “Ready for bed?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“You can stay here. We’re heading to the same place tomorrow anyway.” 

“We are…” And tomorrow, Taeyong had a lot of talking to do too. The thought stressed him out a lot, but the impending food coma was, fortunately, much stronger than any of his building nerves. It helped, too, feeling Sicheng settle at his side. It helped more falling asleep to the words of a stranger on repeat.

🐇

Taeyong was surprised to see Sicheng across from him on the couch when he woke up. The table was cleared and he had a whole blanket over his body and pillow beneath his head. Why hadn’t he just gone to bed? But Taeyong wasn’t going to ask; he’d feel grateful for Sicheng’s kindness instead.

He must have felt Taeyong staring because he started to stir. With a wide yawn, Sicheng rolled onto his back and stretched his arms over his head with a symphony of pops. Taeyong giggled and winced. 

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“Good morning.” Sicheng yawned again and started to peel himself off the couch. “Did you sleep well?”

“Maybe better than I have all week. Thanks.”

Sicheng smiled sweetly and shrugged, stepping off the couch and towards the kitchen. He pulled out their leftovers and started to heat oil in a pan. “We should have enough time to swing by the hostel and get you new clothes. The bathroom is that door on the right if you want to shower while I get this ready.”

Taeyong stood, and when his own bones popped louder than Sicheng’s had earlier they both laughed at the same time. “What about you?” Taeyong asked across the apartment.

“I’ll go after. Believe it or not, it takes me no time to get ready. It’s easy when you effortlessly look this good, you know?”

Taeyong grinned and nodded and felt like he fully understood why this man, Jaehyun, and Yuta were such good friends. The stranger seemed familiar with Yuta, Taeyong wondered if he knew the others too. He hadn’t met the man from yesterday for too long, but something told Taeyong he’d fit right in too.

When Taeyong stepped out of the bathroom, the whole apartment smelled like freshly fried pancakes. Sicheng was already eating his half when Taeyong joined him.

“Hungry?” He asked around a small mouthful of food, breakfast still between his teeth. 

Taeyong’s stomach growled loudly in response before he even parted his lips to use his words.

Sicheng brought his hand to cover his mouth while he chewed. “Trade you. Here,” he nodded his head towards what was left on the plate. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Taeyong was hungry but he found himself poking around his food rather aimlessly. His attention was on his phone, instead. There wasn’t too much going on to hold his attention but he _did_ have texts from a worried Yuta wondering where Taeyong had been. He needed to reply. He hesitated before typing out his message, then he hesitated again before sending it. And once it was finally out in the world, he became suddenly unable to do anything else that wasn’t constantly refreshing their text chain. 

It was 6:30 in the morning and Yuta worked in a bar. Taeyong knew he wouldn’t get an answer for a while. He huffed and set his phone face down on Sicheng’s dark granite countertop, focusing on eating instead. 

But then he was back on it again once he’d finished, waiting while Sicheng finished getting ready. Nothing from Yuta still (duh) but that also made Taeyong realize he should try to schedule time with Jaehyun instead of hoping he could ask for some later in the day. Taeyong took in a breath and held it, staring at the contact photo and their last texts dating back closer to the days that they were having more fun with one another. When he exhaled he let out a little whine too. Then he typed something out. 

Jaehyun replied almost instantly with a “!” and then quickly followed with: _Yes of course. Is everything okay?_

_Yeah, I’m okay. Would you be free around lunch?_

_Let’s go eat somewhere nice :)_

Taeyong knew waiting until lunch would eat him up inside but at least Jaehyun messaged him cutely. He couldn’t help smiling at that.

“What’s up?” 

Taeyong jolted slightly. “I didn’t realize you were out of your room!” He exclaimed, locking his phone and slipping it out of sight. If he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to answer right now. Sicheng let him be lucky this time. Adjusting his tie and pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, he offered a gloved hand to Taeyong. 

“Shall we?”

Taeyong took it with a nod. “We shall.”

He was told to take his time once they arrived at the hostel but Taeyong didn’t want to make them wait-- that’s how he ended up in a simple pair of ripped black jeans and a pastel blue sweater with an intentionally glitchy anime boy printed on the front and various colored squares running down the sleeves. His hair needed some attention but Taeyong shoved it under a pink beanie instead. It was definitely the laziest he’d ever looked in front of the Caterpillar and Co. crew--no accessories, no belts, and not even a drop of eyeliner in sight--and he _did_ hesitate a second before carrying himself out the door. They were in the final days of Fashion Show prep, lazy clothing should be allowed! 

...And if it wasn’t Taeyong would dig something out of the storage closet and change.

“Cute,” Sicheng greeted, giving Taeyong an obvious once over. 

“Cute,” Jaehyun confirmed when they’d arrived at Caterpillar and Co. and ran into him the second they got inside. Taeyong just continued to blush, pushing his glasses up the rim of his nose. He muttered a soft thanks before shuffling off to his office, telling them both he’d see them later. 

Yuta texted him around noon in a flurry of relieved emojis and cat-related gifs that nearly sent Taeyong’s phone vibrating off the side of his work desk. 

_I’m glad you’re okay!! Whenever you want to talk I’m here. I won’t be working until later._

Taeyong smiled to himself and started to ask for a call when a knock came at his door. 

“Hey?” Jaehyun poked his head in, hand still on the side of the sliding door. 

“Hey?” Taeyong parroted, adding the message he was typing to his phone’s clipboard. He set it down to give Jaehyun his whole attention. “What’s up?”

“Do you still want to get that lunch? I’m free now if you are.” There was a smile on Jaehyun’s lips but he looked nervous. Somehow that made Taeyong feel his own anxiousness a little bit less. 

“Yeah-- Yes! I do. Can I just finish this last bit?”

“Yeah of course. Take all the time you need!” Jaehyun pushed the door open completely and leaned against the wall. “Can I see?”

“O-of course. Most if it’s on the mannequin in the corner actually.” Taeyong nodded his head in that direction but he didn’t want to look over until he started hearing Jaehyun “ooh” and “ahh” over his piece. 

“I still need to add the cage,” Taeyong added in sheepishly. He was nearly done dusting black glitter over the wires and felt like he was more covered than his whole garment. 

“It’ll look great.” Jaehyun ran his hand over the material of the shirt. “And the shoes?”

“I think I’ve settled on doing that boot-pant illusion. Something just over the knees that connects to garters also attached to the shirt. Or some high cut shorts. We’ll see what makes the most sense.” 

Jaehyun nodded along to Taeyong’s explanation, raising a hand to tap a finger at his chin. He took another long look over the outfit then turned back to its creator. “Did you think about entering this in next week, Taeyong?”

“For the show?” Taeyong balked, then stammered, then shook his head out much more quickly than he meant to. “Not really. N-not at all, actually. Actually, I didn’t really know what I was doing with this but I wanted to make something happen.”

Jaehyun chuckled at him gently. “For what it’s worth I think you should. There is an ‘up-and-coming’ category.”

“Mmm… Maybe,” Taeyong took a breath and stood, crossing the small space and fitting the half cage onto his mannequin before he finally looked back at Jaehyun. “I’ll think about it.” He tried to match Jaehyun’s smile with his own.

“Shall we?”

Taeyong bowed his head in both a ‘yes’ and a ‘thanks’ towards Jaehyun holding the door open for him. They skipped the office cafeteria for a small cafe nearby. It may not be more private but it at least had far fewer of their coworkers around. Jaehyun set a milk tea down in front of Taeyong and took a slow sip of his own coffee. “So, what’s up Taeyong? What did you want to talk about?”

Taeyong took in the aroma of his drink and watched soft ripples cut across the top as he exhaled. He didn’t know where to start. “At the beginning,” Jaehyun encouraged with a soft laugh at himself for even saying such a thing. So Taeyong did just that. He shared all of his fears about the show, all of his fears about his future, all of the mistakes he felt he made and his wants for the both of them. He gave all the apologies he felt he owed Jaehyun, which happened to be the same as the ones for Sicheng. And when he finished, he pulled his cup and saucer closer and tried to hide behind it as he took another sip. 

“Taeyong.” Jaehyun reached across the table for Taeyong’s hand. His palm was warm and the swipe of his thumb against Taeyong’s skin soothed him in a way he wasn’t expecting. Taeyong wanted to melt into that touch but the table before him and the chair beneath him kept him in place. “Thank you for telling me all of this. I… uh, hah…” He breathed out a laugh and broke their eye contact. 

Sicheng had told him that Jaehyun might cry but Taeyong didn’t think he was serious.

Jaehyun swiped his napkin from the table, trying to mask that he dabbed underneath his eyes. He cleared his throat. “I want to work harder so that you don’t feel that way anymore, okay? What we’re doing is new, yes. And scary. But we wouldn’t be doing this if Sicheng and I didn’t have faith in you, and ourselves. It’s a team effort, you know?”

“Y-yeah. I know.” 

“And can I tell you a secret Taeyong?”

Taeyong tilted his head. 

A smirk spread across Jaehyun’s lips and he leaned in a little closer. “I think we make the best team.” That made Taeyong blush. “And,” Jaehyun continued. “No matter what happens in the show you’ll always have a place at Caterpillar and Co. _and_ you’ll always have a place by my side. I-if you want it, of course. If you ever start to doubt that just let me know and I’ll tell you again. Okay?”

Ah, it was Taeyong’s turn to get teary. But fortunately he wasn’t alone because, no matter how hard he tried to turn his head away and hide it, he could see glassiness in Jaehyun’s eyes too. 

Taeyong stopped hiding behind his mug. And once it was set down he pushed a little onto his feet and dared to peck his lips against Jaehyun’s blushing cheek. “Thank you.” 

Taeyong was two for three. His conscious felt clearer, his heart felt lighter. He even dared to hold Jaehyun’s hand as they walked out of the cafe and crossed the street back to the office. At the door, Taeyong broke them apart. “I have a phone call I’d like to make so I’ll come in after.”

“Oh? Sure.” Jaehyun nudged the long tail of his overcoat back to pull a gold pocket watch from his pocket. “We still have plenty of time before our fitting so take your time. I’ll see you in a bit.” He smiled and waved, stepping through the glass doors and out of sight. 

Taeyong padded around to the side, out of the way of any foot traffic and as out of sight as he could be standing by a building made almost entirely of glass. He still owed Yuta a reply, so he changed up his words a little bit and sent it over. Yuta called him a minute later.

“Taeyong! Good timing.”

“Y-yeah? You called me though.”

“But your text was good timing! I just stepped out of the shower. What’s up?”

“I,” _Breathe,_ Taeyong told himself. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday--” Yuta started to interject with something but Taeyong pushed forward. “I’ve been doing pretty badly this week. A-actually, pretty badly since the night I met Johnny. And even though we promised to be open with each other I got too scared to trust you. So.” _Just say it._ “I’m sorry I stood your show up and I’m sorry I kept things from you and I’m sorry I ignored you when you were warning me about Johnny and--”

“Hey!” Yuta cut in, in a mix of high pitched tones and soft laughter. “Taeyongie, take a breath.” 

Taeyong deflated in a whine. “I’m trying.”

“Well, try again,” Yuta’s voice was light though. Taeyong was sure there was a smile on his lips, he felt he could hear it over the phone. He did as he was told.

“You don’t have to apologize for any of those things though it’s sweet of you to do so. I accept, for what it’s worth” Yuta paused for a moment. “You’re pouting right now, aren’t you?” 

“...How’d you know?”

“A lucky guess? A cat’s intuition? I just have my ways.”

Taeyong poked his tongue between his lips, chasing the taste of milk tea that he wished he could bury himself in again. Yuta was too good… and cute, kind, funny...

“Taeyong? You’re still there, right?”

“Yes! I’m still here.”

“Don’t worry about the things that happened already if you can avoid it, okay? From where I’m standing, it sounds like you’ve already become a different Taeyong if you’re telling me all these things. Keep trying to be that person, kitten. And I’m here to help you keep on that path too; whether that’s a listening ear, a strong drink, or, y’know, a good fu--”

“Yuta!” Taeyong’s voice left him in a shriek and a squeak. 

“What?” Feigning shock and innocence, Yuta chuckled. “Anything else you want to talk about? I’m sure you have work to get back to.”

“No, I think that’s it. Thank you.” 

“Thank _you,_ Taeyong. And come by tonight if you can, yeah? I’ll make you something really good to forget about the _whole_ week.” 

Taeyong smiled. “Sounds good. I’ll see you there.” 

He did have more to do on his garment and his phone told him he had twenty minutes before he needed to be in Jaehyun’s office, but Taeyong didn’t move just yet. He felt like the world’s weight of stress was taken off his shoulders now that he’d spoken to Sicheng, Jaehyun, and Yuta. There was one more thing on his mind. It may be the scariest call of them all, but this was, in Yuta’s words, a New Taeyong. And New Taeyong could do this.

He dialed up the unsaved number in his text threads and pressed his phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

Aw shit… he didn’t think he’d get an answer.

“Johnny? It’s Taeyong.”

“Oh, Taeyong. How’s it going?”

“It’s.” Taeyong bit onto his lip. “It’s going well. I’m sure you’re busy and I don’t want to take your time but... I liked meeting you, but I didn’t appreciate the way we met or the way we separated that night at the bar. And I’m realizing now maybe I should have waited until after the show to tell you this…” Fuck did Taeyong just ruin his chances before they even started? It was too late now. “I like to think you’re not a person who would mix work and not work like this so I wanted to be honest with you before we meet again next week.”

There wasn’t much more than static coming from the other end and every inch of Taeyong wanted to hang up now to avoid facing anything else. But then Johnny cleared his throat and it pulled Taeyong completely back to attention.

“I don’t really know what to say. I think a part of me was hoping you were calling to meet up again,” Johnny confessed. “But with the way things went I can’t say I blame you. I could’ve been better with the way I went about things. Jaehyun actually tells me that all the time.” He chuckled around that last part and Taeyong wondered if he even meant to say it outloud. “It may not mean much but I apologize. Is that all you wanted to talk about?” 

“...Yeah, that’s it.”

“I look forward to seeing you next week Taeyong. Jaehyun has boasted a lot about his work for the show this year. I’m eager to see it.”

As the line clicked off, Taeyong fell back against the side of the building. He’d done it, for better or for worse. If he could really trust Johnny as an honest man, and deep down some part of Taeyong really felt like he could, then he felt like things would be okay.

“Taeyong?” He jumped. “I went to your office to see if you wanted to chat before meeting Jaehyun.” Sicheng stepped around the corner, taking carefully casual steps across the grass. He tried to look calm, though the look on his face definitely gave away that he’d accidentally overheard at least some of Taeyong’s conversation with Johnny. Taeyong flashed a smile over at him, hoping to say ‘It’s all okay’ without using any of his words. 

Sicheng picked up on it, nodding and smiling back. He held out a hand and as Taeyong took it he leaned in and said “I’m proud of you.”

Taeyong tilted his head, resting blue hairs against blonde ones. He let out a soft sound. “I’m proud of me too.”

Dressed up nicely in a newly cleared conscience, Taeyong knew he was ready for next week.

[⌜I can't...⌟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329272/chapters/66634108)

| 

🐇

| 

[⌜Carry on...⌟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329272/chapters/66634324)  
  
---|---|---


	10. The White Queen: Bad Ending

It was getting colder. Taeyong drew his knees up to his chest and pressed himself back against the red brick of Kitten’s Grin as if that would make him warmer. The sun had gone down what felt like hours ago but Taeyong stayed, unmoving, around back. What could he do? Leave? His own feet felt foreign to him and the rest seemed nonexistent. Taeyong curled around himself tighter. 

The door a little ways to his right creaked open. “I can’t believe Mark ratted on me for going to get a slice of pie, that jerk…” Donghyuck grunted, tugging two big bags of trash behind him. “How does one place even have this much garbage? Yuta should be much more environmentally friendly… Someone should teach him.” He was strong enough to manage both bags but struggled to avoid having them rip until he made it to the dumpster. Donghyuck let out a huff, resting them against dark green metal as he hoisted the wavy black lid upward. “And… one,” both hands pushed a bag over the ledge. “Two… Okay, there we go.” He wiped his hands against one another and turned. “Oh! Taeyong?”

While Donghyuck scrambled to his side, Taeyong tried to curl up tighter. If only that would turn him invisible, especially after the other man already saw him. 

“Taeyong, are you okay?” 

He bit onto his bottom lip. He didn’t want Donghyuck to worry-- or rather, he didn’t want to pester him with all of these stupid emotions floating around his brain. Donghyuck didn’t deserve that. No one deserved that. Taeyong’s hand twitched, considering letting his arm go, or at least loosening the hard bite of his nails in his skin, but Donghyuck had already returned to his feet. “Mark!” He called, jogging around the corner. “Mark, help me.”

“You’re a big boy. You can handle the trash-- Hey!”

“No time, idiot.” Donghyuck’s hand gripped tight around Mark’s wrist and he pulled him back to the spot where Taeyong (stupidly, really) hadn’t left. 

“Taeyong?” Mark tilted his head, blonde bangs falling in front of his eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Hey, are you okay?” 

Taeyong shook his head. Even as Mark and Donghyuck’s hands fell gently onto his shoulders he found himself unable to manage any other movement. His chest rose and fell with shaky breaths until his whole body was quivering. He realized he was crying when he saw droplets fall onto his shoes.

Eventually he choked out a small, “Sorry.”

“For what?” Donghyuck asked immediately, hardly skipping a beat or taking a pause. 

“Just… sorry.” _Okay, just do this. You can do at least this._ He pulled back from the self-made hole he was hiding in and gathered the end of his sleeve into his palm to wipe away the mess of tears and eyeliner he’d made on his cheeks. “I’m okay. You don’t have to stay with me.”

“You don’t look okay.” Mark drew his hand back. “Want one of us to get Yuta? He could give you a ride home.”

“No!” Taeyong bristled at his own reaction and then shook his head, forcing himself to take a breath. “No, it’s okay. I can get home. I just haven’t.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay…?” Donghyuck chimed in this time, pushing some of Taeyong’s hair behind his ears. “We don’t have to get Yuta but is there anything we can do to help?”

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t but, “I don’t want to bother either of you.” Taeyong found feeling in his feet and shifted them underneath him, slowly pushing the soles of his shoes into the ground to stand. He wavered when he reached full height, nearly falling back if it weren’t for Donghyuck and Mark who each caught an arm and tugged him back to balance. “Thanks.” This time Taeyong tried to crack a smile. “I guess I needed help with that.” 

“It’s no problem--” Mark started to say when Donghyuck cut in.

“Gimme your phone.” He held his hand out to take it and entered in two numbers. “Now you can text us both when you get home. You’ll do it, yeah?” 

Taeyong blinked twice down as his cell exchanged hands and then gave a single nod. “Yeah. I will.”

🐇

Taeyong was having trouble not crying. Whether he was in the hotel, on his way to work, in his office… he just couldn’t stop.

The pressure was too much. His mind felt confined. His heart felt restricted. Everytime he took a second to think something positive everything else in him would crush that hope into a fine dust. 

Even the mask he put on in front of Sicheng and Jaehyun was starting to crack. Well, his voice broke first. Jaehyun asked him a question and Taeyong’s answer would squeak out hopelessly, prompting him to turn his head and clear his throat as if that was enough to reign the rest of himself in.

Sicheng stepped up to Taeyong’s side and pushed some of his hair back. “Everything alright?”

Why was this so reminiscent of the other night? Why were they all like this? So… kind.

Taeyong didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah,” he choked out, starting to look away from Sicheng until he realized that he’d just be facing Jaehyun. Taeyong hung his head instead.

“Do you need a break?” Jaehyun asked.

“Do we really have time for breaks?” Sicheng asked over Taeyong’s arched self, voice a hushed whisper but still easy to hear. Taeyong slumped further.

“Yes,” Jaehyun replied somewhat tensely. “We can make the time if Taeyong needs it.”

“No it’s okay. I can do this. Sicheng is right, too, we really don’t have time.” 

“Are you sure, Taeyong? We can make it work. I don’t want you to over work yourself.”

“It’s fine,” Taeyong snapped. Then he panicked over snapping, slapping his hand over his lips. “Sorry.”

Jaehyun’s hands shifted to both of Taeyong’s shoulders and he massaged them for a moment. “Hey, relax. It’s okay. Let’s do a few more walks and then we can call it an early day. Sounds good?” 

“Yeah.” Taeyong swallowed. He pushed himself up from the wall he’d settled against and stepped back out across the office, whispering “It’s okay,” over and over and over and over again until the words lost meaning.

Or maybe, they hadn’t had meaning in a while. 

Taeyong was numb. He realized it over a bowl of lukewarm soup and a cafe around the corner from his hostel. Like Jaehyun’s praises and Sicheng’s encouragement, it wasn’t doing anything to shake away the chill in his chest. He decided alcohol might be a better choice, just to feel something. Anything. 

Leaving his meal half empty and his bill paid in full plus a generous tip, he dragged his feet from the cafe and out into the busy street. He had been avoiding Kitten’s Grin since he’d been found so shamefully around the back, and ignoring Yuta’s texts to beckon him back as if nothing had happened. So that was out of the picture as a place where he could drink. Somewhere around here had to have alcohol, though. Taeyong lingered in the windows of places that were far too fancy for him to go into and contemplated over menus he knew he was too poor to afford. At one point he even pulled his wallet out from his pocket just to confirm that a $25 cocktail was a bad idea. 

He took a cheap bottle of wine back to his room and finished it on his own instead. And the next night he did the same. It was easier than finding food he wanted to eat and cost just about the same. He even found himself sleeping better than he had earlier in the week.

He’d call it a win-win.

But his body disagreed. It gave out on him before his head could catch up. And, on Caterpillar and Co.’s makeshift practice stage the week before the competition, he passed out in the middle of the runway. 

Jaehyun shouted his name. Sicheng gasped. But Taeyong heard nothing else, the rest fading to a harsh black. 

When he came to, the white light of the Urgent Care room was even more severe. He felt queasy, wanting to curl in on himself to keep some of his discomfort at bay, but the sheets of his bed were too tight and there were too many wires draped across his waist. He didn’t want to mess with those. He kept closing his eyes tight in hopes of reorienting himself until a nurse came in.

“You’re awake!”

He grunted in reply.

“You’re okay,” he reassured. “We’ll run some quick and then you have some visitors hoping to see you.” 

_Visitors?_ Taeyong bit onto his bottom lip. That was almost more distressing than the severe drop in blood sugar or the concerning amount of weight Taeyong had lost in the last few weeks. How could he see anyone like this?

But still they came. Jaehyun walked in first, followed swiftly by a casually dressed and clearly concerned Sicheng. “How’re you feeling?” They asked in unison. Between expressing their worry and regretting not encouraging Taeyong to take a break, they let slip that they weren’t the only ones here for him.

“Yuta?” Taeyong asked. 

“Not Yuta,” Sicheng shifted and though he was still holding Taeyong’s hand is his own he maneuvered more towards the door to call out: “Mrs. Lee?”

“What?”

He watched with dread. His mother, looking frazzled and out of place in her cotton pants and knit cardigan, replaced Sicheng at his side. The frown on her lips etched deep into her skin, making her few wrinkles stand out even more. She ran her hand over his cheek and into his hair.

“We need to get you home, Taeyong.” 

He’d been given a quick goodbye to the two who had so nearly made his dreams come true-- No, that wasn’t it. They’d given Taeyong his dreams and he’d shattered the opportunity. 

That afternoon he was discharged. That evening he packed his things. The next morning he was on a bus back to the country, leaning his weight against his mother’s shoulder. At least he could let himself feel warmth again...

Had it really always been there for him all along?

_-End-_


	11. Alice

The night before the show Taeyong waited outside Sicheng’s apartment. 

He’d maybe spent half of the nights leading up to the show with his friend, actually. The company was nice, and truthfully a little necessary given Taeyong’s still somewhat frazzled state of mind; but he was really there because Sicheng and Jaehyun both refused to leave him alone in the office. 

“I don’t want to stay here much longer either,” Sicheng had said, all but dragging Taeyong through the door. “If you need somewhere to work just come over.”

So he did, lugging his mannequin and bags’ worth of accessories into the car and then up the stairs, just like tonight. He tried not to set anything down because he knew the second he let it all go Sicheng would open the door and he’d have to grab it again. Instead, Taeyong swayed from the weight of everything in his arms and the lack of sleep until he heard a lock unclick and was greeted by a friendly face.

Actually, a friendlier face than he expected.

“Yuta? What are you doing here?”

Still grinning, Yuta took the two bags out of Taeyong’s hands and stepped aside to let him in. “Sicheng invited me. Surprised?”

“Yes, very.” Taeyong glanced around for Sicheng and when he found him asked, “You invited him?”

“I’d never invite Yuta anywhere,” Sicheng said with a soft _tch,_ rolling his eyes. 

“Aw, c’mon,” Yuta pouted. He walked back to Taeyong and draped his arms over his broad shoulders. “He didn’t _not_ invite me, but I guess I asked to stop by.”

“What about the bar?”

“Jaemin and Jeno have it under control. I’m not worried about them.”

“Jaemin and Jeno can barely drink?”

“It’s perfect! Means they won’t deplete stock or get drunk on the job,” Yuta peeled away to shrug. “I wanted to see you before tomorrow.”

What Taeyong eventually learned was that this was tradition-- Yuta and Sicheng and Jaehyun getting together for a last minute planning session and a round of drinks. And he found this out because Sicheng kept not-so-discreetly checking his phone and Yuta was holding off on ordering food. 

“Is he coming?” Yuta shifted his position on the couch until his head was hanging off the couch cushions, his hair brushing the floor. “My stomach’s going to explode if I don’t eat soon!”

“He wants to come,” Sicheng said with a soft sigh he probably didn’t mean to let out. “He says he’s tied up in some things.”

“He _always_ says that and then he shows up anyway. Can’t we skip this and just get to the part where we’re getting drunk?”

“Jaehyun’s coming?” Taeyong looked up from his work and to Sicheng who was also on the floor helping him.

“Hopefully.”

“Oh, he’ll come. He’ll come on his own or I’ll go to that hoity toity apartment of his and drag him out. I swear to God,” Yuta broke off into Japanese, muttering under his breath while he shifted back upright and continued to scroll through menus on his phone.

That made Taeyong chuckle--though he could also just be delirious from hours of crunch time. “Is this a tradition?”

“I guess you could say that,” Sicheng blew some extra black glitter off Taeyong’s cage onto the towel he had laid out beneath them. “I don’t think we meant for it to happen but Jaehyun and I always get stressed out and Yuta’s a clown so he helps take our minds off of it.”

“I’m choosing to ignore you.” Yuta stayed still on the couch but made sure his voice cut sharply through the space between them.

Shaking his head, Taeyong moved his focus back to his work. Why had he been so foolish to wait on the boot coverings? Why didn’t he just commit to the last minute idea of making high cut shorts? Thigh highs and shorts were so common, though. If he could make this… He knew it would look good _and_ different. Taeyong let out a groan but he wasn’t going to give up now.

“Your cage is done,” Sicheng held it up before them both. “Is it to your liking?”

Taeyong glanced up. The needle in his hand nearly fell into his lap, eyes growing wide and jaw dropping. “Perfect. It’s perfect. Even better than I could’ve imagined it.” Oh, Taeyong was growing giddy. “Yuta,” he called out in excitement. “What do you think?”

But Yuta had already come off the couch to take a closer look, head tilting one way then another to take in all the sparkles. “It’s great! You really came up with this? I should have you design our new uniforms when you’re done.”

“S-stop,” Taeyong chuckled and turned away as if it could hide his obvious blushing. 

Sicheng offered to help Taeyong with his pant-boot covers but Taeyong declined. “It’s just a bit more hand sewing to keep the integrity of the knee gaps. Shouldn’t take me more than a half hour.” 

And thirty minutes later he was burying his head in his work.

“Done?” Yuta asked.

“...Yes.”

“Yay!” He jumped to his feet and climbed over Taeyong’s piles of things only to melt around the body still on the ground. “You did it! Let’s see it on!”

“What?” Taeyong snapped back upright, smashing his head against Yuta’s nose in the process, and went into a wide eyed panic when he realized what he’d done _and_ saw the blood trickling from Yuta’s face. “I’m so sorry!” He yelled first, jumping to his feet. “Please don’t bleed on my clothes!” He added after, gathering some paper towels.

“Now that you’ve injured me,” Yuta’s cooed around the wad of makeshift tissues now stuffed up his nose. “You have to show me your outfit. It’s only fair.”

“I’m so tired…” Taeyong sighed, shoulders deflating. He looked around for Sicheng to back him up only to realize that he wasn’t still in the living room with them. And when he looked back to Yuta with the question written all over his face Yuta only shrugged. 

“Go on,” he waved Taeyong towards the bathroom with his free hand. “I want to see you.” 

Taeyong wouldn’t admit it, but Yuta was smart to make him wear it. He hadn’t tried on any of these pieces in at least a few weeks and he’d never put them all together. When he looked in the mirror, he took his own breath away. The whole piece fit him like a glove. In nearly every other case he would not feel confident with his whole chest, abs, and navel being visible, but the details of the black lace that covered this part of him turned exposure into something enticing. Extended out from the diamond shaped window of lace and forming the rest of his garment around his shoulders, back, and to a point that wrapped around his middle fingers was blue silk. A lighter shade of chiffon puffed out around him, pulled back into a bow at his back that rested just at the top of his half cage. And the _cage._ The cage and the medium sized blue and black lace striped bows gave him the silhouette he wanted. Taeyong shook his head out slowly. He didn’t want to cry all over his newly finished garment, He ran his hands across the black studs that helped secure the cage in its place behind him. 

_You did it._

Taeyong opened the door. “Sicheng, I promise I haven’t worn these boots outside, can I step out in them?”

“Go for it!” Yuta answered then yelped. Sounded like he got smacked. Taeyong shook his head.

“Yes, you may.” 

That sounded more properly like Sicheng. 

Weeks ago Taeyong would never feel comfortable in black boots this high with such a thin heel. But now? It was as easy as breathing. The boots themselves rose up to his knee, gathering at a small point (the point that Taeyong had just finished sewing) and then fanning out upwards to cover his thighs and hips and melt into the rest of his garment. He was looking down, but it was more to admire the hold and feel of his shoes than it was because of uncertainty in his step. Taking a breath, he finally looked up and asked “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” Jaehyun whispered.

Taeyong froze.

“Jaehyun?”

“He made it,” Yuta beamed, throwing an arm around Jaehyun’s shoulders. “Just in time too, huh?”

Taeyong’s hands twitched at his side, the want to hide bubbling up through him quickly. He even took a step back to run away but his heel caught the edge of Sicheng’s rug and took his footing right out from under him. He let out a sharp gasp.

An arm was quick to hook around his waist, a hand taking careful hold of Taeyong’s wrist in hopes of tugging him back upright by the arm. It worked to stable him. It also left him centimeters apart, face to face, with Jung Jaehyun.

“Looks like I just swept you off your feet, huh?” Jaehyun chuckled. “Careful.”

Taeyong tried to take in a breath but was left sputtering in Jaehyun’s strong, firm hold until he was placed back on his feet. “S-sorry…” His chest rose and fell slowly before he resigned to his fate. He had no choice but to have Mad Hatter himself see his fully finished piece _on_ him.

Taeyong wanted to die.

“Do a twirl,” Yuta called, Jaehyun stepping back to his side. Taeyong shot him a look that was one part ‘I hate you,’ and another ‘do I have to?’ but he gave in anyway, watching his steps on the uneven floor as he took a slow spin. 

“Wow.” Sicheng had joined the three from his bedroom. He propped his elbow onto the palm of his hand and rested his cheek against his fist. Dark eyes raked over Taeyong’s whole form. He smirked. “Damn.”

“Damn?” Taeyong tilted his head a bit and smiled shyly.

“Mhm.” Sicheng nodded. “Damn. I’m good. I really know how to pick ‘em, huh?” His eyes flashed over to Jaehyun and he grinned. That pulled a laugh to Taeyong’s lips and he finally stepped across the wood floor to the rest of them. 

“Mind if I?” Jaehyun gestured towards the outfit and, once he received a nod from Taeyong, started to trace his fingers around the fabric. “The chiffon is a nice touch,” he hummed, stepping around to Taeyong’s back. He fluffed up his bow. “You’re entering this, right?”

“I am. Not any of the walking categories but I’ll have it on display.”

“Shame.” Jaehyun smiled at Taeyong as he finally returned to face him. “It’d be nice to see this on the runway.”

“Maybe one day.” Oof, Taeyong was blushing _hard_ now and Yuta was calling him out for it. He hurried back to the bathroom to change before anyone could say anything else. 

Jaehyun was already a surprise to see when he first rejoined the group. Now he was face to face with a whole feast. He blinked, looking at the food, then at the other three who already had bowls in their hands. He turned to Yuta with a quirk in his brow. 

Yuta grinned. “I have my ways, Kitten.”

🐇

Taeyong woke up first that next morning, the least hungover and the most actively nervous. At the time, as the others were downing shot after shot while playing a ridiculous and nonsensical drinking game Yuta had thrown together, he felt a little guilty for trading his peach vodka for a bottle of water. Logically, though, he was grateful to lack the headaches the others obviously sported and that he didn’t feel (or look) bloated. It had been made very clear that none of them had ever really modeled before, with the exception of Sicheng who gave a small, silent ‘cheers’ when Taeyong made his drink switch.

He peeled himself from the pile of blankets on the floor, Yuta still passed out on his left and Jaehyun hung half off the couch on his right. Taeyong chuckled at the Sharpied birds on Yuta’s cheek and the memories of him asking “how is a raven like a writing desk?” as one of the questions for his ‘game.’ Jaehyun had gotten pretty pissed at Yuta’s personal brand of nonsense but he didn’t think he’d go so far as to mark up Yuta’s face while he was sleeping. Guess he was wrong. 

“Anyway,” Taeyong whispered to the still room around him, carefully stepping over boys and bottles. “Today’s the day.” 

They still had a few hours before the doors would be open to them. Plenty of time to wake up, work through the hangovers, get ready, and go. “I hope you won’t mind.” Taeyong pulled Sicheng’s keys off of a table near his door. He had poked his head in to see if Sicheng wanted to come with but the blonde was so buried under blankets Taeyong thought it was better not to disturb him. He decided to help speed their healing process by buying coffee and breakfast bars from a small shop near Sicheng’s apartment.

A bag around one wrist and a cardboard container balanced in his palm, he unlocked the door and used his shoulder to push it open, staggering when it opened all the way earlier than he was ready. 

_Don’t fall!_ He told himself, followed quickly by, _Don’t end up in someone’s arms again!_

He managed to regain his footing just in time. 

“Need help?” Jaehyun asked. 

_Why is it always Jaehyun…_ Taeyong wondered, nodding anyways and handing over their drinks. He swallowed lightly. Jaehyun looked… so cute. His hair ruffled every which way, his eyes still half heavy with sleep, dimples poking through ever-so-slightly as he smiled a sweet, groggy smile. Taeyong wanted to pout. It wasn’t fair!

“You didn’t have to get us anything.” Jaehyun peered around each drink, opening up the plastic tops to take sniffs.

“They’re all the same,” Taeyong chuckled, prompting Jaehyun to look back at him. “Well, except one cookies and creme latte, but that’s mine, so don’t touch it.” 

“If I’ve learned anything from knowing you these last few weeks it’s to not get in the way of you and your sweets.” He pulled the drink in question from the rest and handed it Taeyong’s way. “Thanks, by the way. This will be the best way to wake the others up.”

Sure enough, the second the smell of coffee filled the room, Yuta was pulled onto his feet like some sort of zombie. “Thanks,” he murmured, only coming to life when he took his first sip. Sicheng stumbled out after, opting for a breakfast bar. “There’s only one shower,” he reminded the group in an obvious, already irritated tone that said ‘we do this every year guys, don’t be annoying this time too.’ 

“You can go first.” Jaehyun raised his brows and bowed his head. “It’s your house after all.”

“Correct answer,” Sicheng smirked and made his way into the bathroom. 

Taeyong didn’t have to get ready in the way the other two did, and he found himself extra grateful for Yuta’s continued company while Sicheng and Jaehyun tried not to kill each other as they got into their suits and did their makeup.

Sitting on the couch, Yuta leaned over until all of his arm pressed against Taeyong’s and his head could rest on his shoulder. “Did you shower earlier this morning?” He whispered.

“Yep.”

“Good boy.” 

They ‘clinked’ their paper coffee cups together. 

Sicheng joined them a little bit later, dropping a breakfast bar in Taeyong’s lap. “I want to see you eat it,” he said with a soft, encouraging nudge of his elbow. 

Taeyong scrunched his nose. He had one already! But… he knew by the gentle look in Sicheng’s eyes and the way Yuta smiled and raised his brows at him that he, one, had no choice, and two, was only being told to eat out of the kindness of their hearts. He set his drink on the coffee table and peeled the foil back “Just ‘cause you say so.” Sicheng and Yuta high fived over Taeyong’s lap. And when he had finished eating, Jaehyun was ready to go. 

“It’s showtime.”

As they walked down the stairs Yuta took Taeyong’s hand in his own, and when Taeyong blinked up to look at him smiled brightly back. “You’re going to do great,” he whispered, giving him a squeeze. “I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”

Taeyong blushed and started to break away when he thought better of it. So he bit onto his lip and nodded instead. “I’ll do my best,” he agreed. “Thanks.” 

They parted when the black company car pulled around the corner. Yuta shot the whole group two thumbs up and a glistening grin. He yelled, “Come celebrate tonight!” and then they were in the car and out of sight. 

Taeyong settled back against the car seat and let out a sigh. 

“Same.” Jaehyun leaned back next to him. “It’ll be a lot of fun. Nerves are good, right?”

“Right,” Taeyong nodded. “I can’t tell if I’m more nervous to walk or have my work judged.” The answer was obviously walking, but his project was his baby. He wanted it to do well too. He wanted--

“Wait!” Taeyong shot forward. “My stuff. I forgot to grab it!”

“Huh?” Sicheng turned back from the front seat. “I-... Oh, shit...” 

“It’s fine.” Taeyong took a glance out the window and already started for his seatbelt. “We’re close enough. I’ll run back and get it so you both can get there on time.” He looked between Sicheng and Jaehyun. “Is that okay?” He asked. _Please?_ His eyes begged.

But Sicheng was already putting his keys into Taeyong’s hand and tapping the driver to pull over.

“Go for it.”

“Go quick,” Jaehyun added.

“See you soon!” 

Taeyong sprinted down the few blocks and around a couple corners, up the stairs until he was panting in Sicheng’s doorway. _Stupid,_ he kept chastising himself, even as he gathered his bags and mannquin and rushed back downstairs to hail a cab. His hand pounded against his chest to get his heart rate to still, and though his phone told him he was only fifteen or so minutes behind the other two he couldn’t help worrying whenever they hit a stoplight or paused for some passersby. _It’s fine,_ he repeated like a chant. _You’ll be fine._

It took every inch of self control not to bolt out of the car when they arrived at the venue--he didn’t want to get sweaty again--and maybe he was lucky that the building was so stunning it stopped him in his tracks anyway. He knew it was a regular city convention hall, but the way it was dressed up in bright curtains and patterned banners made it feel like magic. Truly, Taeyong’s dream came true.

He fumbled a little bit between the items in his hand and swiping his ID from his pocket to gain entry, but made it inside without falling (again) at least. Since when did he get so clumsy…

“Taeyong?”

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked up. “H-hi?” This face was unfamiliar, but when he glanced up it clicked. He’d recognize those soft eye smiles anywhere, even when they were covered in layers of makeup. “Oh! Y-you’re… I never got your name.”

The stranger from the pie shop held out his hand, giggling as Taeyong shifted items every which way to eventually take it. “Did I forget to do that earlier? Oops~” His smile widened. “My name’s Ten.”

“Ten… Ten?” Like, the WWFS winner for the last two years. “Y-you’re Ten?” 

“The one and only.” Ten seemed particularly pleased at that play on numbers.

“I-... uh,” Oh Gods. When had Taeyong stopped breathing? How had he shared a whole meal--if pie counted as a meal--with this actual celebrity and not known it was him? How had he been such a disaster of a human being in front of a fashion icon? Taeyong had magazines in his bedroom back home with Ten’s face on the cover, how had he been so blind? A mask and a hat hardly changed someone’s appearance that much… 

Probably the better question-- How had he beaten Ten at Yuta’s show? 

Well, Taeyong reasoned, it was probably because Ten wore a mask. He wasn’t going to do that this time. Did Taeyong stand a chance? 

Taeyong still hadn’t spoken any words. Ten didn’t seem bothered though. He was just smiling, even if he looked a little perplexed at Taeyong’s wide eyed, mouth opened silence. Taeyong cleared his throat. “S-sorry. And sorry I didn’t recognize you sooner. I’m… pretty dumb, huh?”

“Nah.” Ten waved his hand, sending that thought away. “You’re pretty funny though.”

“F-funny?” 

“Ten!”

“Oh, that’s my cue. I can’t wait to see you out there Taeyong. Break a leg!”

Taeyong watched Ten turn and jog down the hallway, dumbstruck, until enough activity rushing around him prompted him to move and a hand wrapped around his arm.

“There you are!”

“Oh! Sicheng.”

“I’m glad you made it so swiftly. Here, come this way.” He grabbed one of Taeyong’s bags and hurried him towards a room in the back. The door had his name on it. Taeyong couldn’t help but stare, even taking his phone out again to snap a picture, but he was quickly tugged inside. On a mannequin in the corner was Jaehyun’s outfit in all of its glory. Taeyong had seen it so many times but now, here, like this and waiting for him it just felt… different. It took his breath away.

“So.” Sicheng took everything out of Taeyong’s arms and set it carefully to the side. “Your makeup appointment will start in about…” He tugged at his pocket watch, “Oh my. Five minutes. Hair will come after. The room is just down the hall and to your left. It’ll be the second door. Can’t miss it because the sign says ‘hair and makeup.’” Taeyong nodded. “And then you’ll come back here and get ready. A PA will be around in case you need help getting dressed. Then they’ll bring you to the stage and it’ll be show time!” Sicheng finally took a break, pausing as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and, despite how flustered he was, smiled. “Make sense?”

Taeyong matched that smile with his own. “Makes sense. And you and Jaehyun are…?”

“Networking stuff. Paperwork stuff. Nothing as fun as what your day is going to be like, I assure you.”

Sicheng brought his hands to Taeyong’s shoulders and rubbed at them for a few seconds. “Can’t wait to see you out there. We’ll be in the front row so give us a wink or something okay?”

Taeyong picked up one of the bags that Sicheng set onto the nearest chair and hugged it to his chest as the March Hare rushed off to find the Mad Hatter. Warmed by his friend’s words and yet uncontrollably jittery, he took four of his five minutes to tuck his half put together mannequin and all his other things into the closet before he needed to run down the hall and around the corner to the second door as he’d been instructed.

He thought that having a chance to sit down might calm his energy levels a bit but… nope. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing and the makeup artist brushing reds and browns over his eyes giggled every time she saw it. At least she spared him from having to talk, other than a quick greeting and a check in of “This is your first time, huh?”

“H-how’d you know?” Taeyong tried to come across as cheeky and cool, but instead stammered his words out like a mess. His sweet smile made up for it though.

“I’d remember painting a face like yours,” she hummed, switching to brush on highlights. “But it’s also easy to tell who the newbies are by the ones who don’t breathe. Which,” she tapped his cheek. “You should do that. Blue’s a nice hair color but maybe not great for the skin.”

He hadn’t realized that there was air backlogged in his lungs until he was puffing it out in laughter. She chuckled along with him. 

Halfway through a man joined to start on his hair. Between all of the looking up, looking down, closing his eyes and looking left, tucking his chin, lifting it, Taeyong had less and less time to think about his nerves (but a little more time to get anxious about doing well for his stylists). Overall, though, it was a blessing to not think about the hours ahead. 

As was the reveal which took Taeyong’s own breath away.

“Don’t touch your face.” Taeyong’s hand was half way towards his cheek but he snapped it back to his side. Still… wow… He blinked, and the person in the mirror blinked in time, but he certainly didn’t feel like they were the same person. His jaw looked somehow sharper, more defined, and the light catching his cheekbones made him glisten. Taeyong leaned in close to the mirror and found rose quartz colored glitter in the corner of his eyes, subtle yet making all the difference. 

His hair stylist tapped on his shoulder with one hand, pulling him back into his seat while the other shook up a can of hairspray. “Almost done, babe.” He popped a bubble with his gum and mussed Taeyong’s hair until it was a satisfying mix of looking heavily styled and intentionally messy. His eyes darted at the little peaks on each side that had him feeling a little devilish, and then crossed a bit to take in the point of his bangs left on his face. “Amazing,” he whispered, then glanced back to the man at his side. “Can I touch this?”

He let out a laugh. “Yeah, you can. This spray is like cement, though, so your hair might not go anywhere.”

Taeyong’s brows rose and stayed that way when he turned back to look at himself. “Sounds good to me.” Slipping out of the chair and onto slightly less jittery legs, Taeyong stole a few seconds of his time to thank the two who glammed him up and ran--but much more slowly--back to his personal room. He wanted to take selfies--and Taeyong _rarely_ wanted to take selfies--but opted to look at himself in the blacked out screen of his phone after he checked the time. His head stayed down, shoulder nudging his door closed, and you know what? He decided he would take a photo. One photo. He lifted his phone to snap it.

Then lowered his arm and froze. 

“W-where…?” 

Taeyong took hurried steps towards the mannequin in the corner, the one that was supposed to have Jaehyun’s garment on it. Was...supposed...to… Taeyong turned left and right quick enough to grow dizzy. Well, maybe he was already dizzy because seeing his whole reason for being here _gone_ was more than enough to make him faint. 

_Breathe, Taeyong. _“Fuck.” _Breathe._ He sucked air in between his teeth because he couldn’t cry. That would ruin all his makeup. __

__He started to pace around the room, wracking his brain for any sort of answer. He tried to call Jaehyun but it went straight to voicemail. Expected, just not helpful. Sicheng? No dice. He could try Yuta, but Yuta would only be able to build him up. He wouldn’t find his outfit. It was still tempting. Taeyong’s finger hovered over the call button for a moment. But he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his jeans again. Taeyong would build himself up today._ _

__Fuck, he needed to find that outfit._ _

__A knock came at the door and he opened it for the PA._ _

__“Hi,” the young man greeted with a smile that Taeyong tried and failed to match. “I’m Jisung. I’ll be helping you today.”_ _

__“Hi,” Taeyong returned tightly._ _

__“Is… everything alright?”_ _

__“Yeah-- No, wait. No. Have you happened to see anyone walking around with a whole outfit?”_ _

__“Uhm, well, that’s just about everyone here right now. Can you give me more details?”_ _

__Taeyong was halfway to a facepalm because _of course that was everyone here_ but stopped short of messing up his makeup. His shoulders collapsed with a sigh. “Wait, I have pictures.” Taeyong opened up his phone and swiped to the photos Sicheng had snuck from the raw footage of their shoot day with Jaehyun. “This. Have you seen this?”_ _

__Jisung leaned in close and squinted, running his fingers through his dark fringe to pull it out of his face. “Sorry, sir. I haven’t seen this anywhere. I could try to put out a call? It was taken from this room.”_ _

__“Yeah.” Taeyong looked between Jisung and the mannequin, bouncing on the balls of his feet in hopes to shake away some of his tension. “I… I don’t know.” Did he want to be the one causing everyone to scramble just because _his outfit was missing_? “Tell me honestly, Jisung. Do we even have enough time for that?”_ _

__Jisung pulled a face. “Honestly? No.”_ _

__“Figured.” Taeyong slumped against the wall and to the ground. “I don’t know what to do.” He glanced up at the PA. “Sorry, I’m dragging you into this too now.”_ _

__“Oh! No no,” Jisung tucked his clipboard into his armpit and waved his hands loosely. “This isn’t the worst I’ve had to deal with, trust me.”_ _

__“No?”_ _

__“Well, at least it’s not _my_ worst. Usually I get sent on weird errands or this one time I had a model who wouldn’t walk anywhere there weren’t rose petals. That was annoying.”_ _

__Taeyong found enough in him to chuckle despite his despair. “I’m glad I’m not annoying.”_ _

__“Hey,” Jisung cut in, trodding over to the closet. “What about this? Can you wear this?”_ _

__“That’s for the hallway show.”_ _

__“So? There’s enough time to withdraw it from that. I can do that for you right now.”_ _

__“But it’s not meant for the runway.”_ _

__“Why not?”_ _

__“Because--...” Taeyong paused. Because it wasn’t made for the runway... but he did make it using the runway’s theme. Because he was supposed to be Jaehyun’s model… but Jaehyun claimed Taeyong’s piece as one of Caterpillar and Co.’s own. He looked back to Jisung. “Do you really think I could?”_ _

__“Truthfully, sir, I think you _should._ It’s either that or go out there naked. Come on,” He reached out a hand and helped Taeyong to his feet. “Let’s get you in this.”_ _

____

🐇

“Mad Hatter, your leg is bouncing.” Sicheng leaned over to whisper, placing his hand onto Jaehyun’s. “You might want to relax a bit before all the cameras come out. We are front row after all.”

Jaehyun cleared his throat, a quiet acknowledgement of his assistant’s words, then planted the heel of his boot into the ground. “Thank you.”

“Any time.” Sicheng smirked and sat back in his own seat. While Jaehyun adjusted his tie beside him, Sicheng pushed his half moon glasses up his nose and took in the stage. Always the same, even as the runway themes changed and the top designers shuffled around seats. He remembered not too long ago when they were tucked more towards the back, working out of a studio space in the middle of the city to make their dreams come true. “How times change,” he hummed, giving his partner another glance. 

“That they do.” 

Jaehyun stood, then, to greet Johnny as he passed by with the other judges. “Good to see you.”

“Is it?” Johnny chuckled, taking Jaehyun’s hand anyway and leaning in for bisous. “You amaze us every year, Mr. Hatter. You know I’m eager to see what you and your new protege have in store.”

“We won’t disappoint, I assure you.” 

Johnny’s brows rose and his grin widened as he stepped to Sicheng’s side so Jaehyun could greet the rest of the panel as well. 

“We look forward to _your_ evaluations, as always,” Sicheng added. “Especially on our hallway pieces. Taeyong has one.”

“He does? I must have missed it then. I’ll make sure to go back when the main show is done.”

Sicheng tried not to let confusion work its way into the calm expressed he’d schooled onto his face but _where was Taeyong’s entry?_ Had he not given a good enough timeline when they met earlier? He started to reach for his phone when the lights dipped low. An announcer called for everyone to take their place and Sicheng knew even if he snuck his phone out now he wouldn’t have a chance of talking to Taeyong.

“Maybe Johnny just missed it?” Jaehyun supplied, trying to set both of their minds at ease. “I’m sure it’s okay. Hey, have you seen White Rabbit yet?”

Sicheng shook his head and looked across the stage to the empty seat he knew to be his. “Probably late. As always.”

The announcer made another call, this time for attendees and models. In the back hallways, Jisung kept walking faster than Taeyong in his stiletto heels and had to pause and take steps back to keep pace. “Are you sure you’ll be okay in those?” He asked with a bit of a laugh.

“Well,” Taeyong huffed. “They weren’t _supposed_ to be worn but if I’m careful now I think I’ll be okay out there.”

Jisung laughed at that. “I trust you, Taeyong. You’re going to go through this hallway and then they’ll help stage you for your turn. Do you need anything else?”

“Just for you to pray for me?” Taeyong replied with a quirk of his lips. 

“Already done. I think you’ll do great. Good luck!”

Taeyong watched Jisung scramble off before heading through the dark curtains. He felt torn between his interest in everyone else’s outfit submissions and not wanting to psyche himself out but Taeyong was curious where Ten was, and as each model started filing out for their turn eventually started straining his neck to see if he could see him.

He hadn’t realized there were models being held on the other side. He didn’t know until he was halfway up the stairs, heart pounding in his chest, and Ten’s name was announced. Taeyong took a glance and gasped.

His outfit. His outfit was on… Ten?

Taeyong squinted around his circle lenses. 

Out in the audience, Sicheng gasped sharply, whipping his head around to an already obviously tense Jaehyun. 

“That’s…” Sicheng started. Jaehyun just nodded. “And that’s not…” Jaehyun nodded some more. “So what’s Taeyong…” Sicheng shook his head out quickly. “I can’t let him go through this on his own. It wouldn’t be fair.” He shifted his feet beneath him. “I’ll be back. I’m going to find--”

“Wait.” Jaehyun’s eyes stayed glued to the stage but his hand shot out quickly to grab Sicheng and pull him back down. “Look.”

Ten’s time posting at the backend of the runway came to an end. He turned towards the stairwell Taeyong was waiting on. Their shoulders brushed as he passed. Eyes meeting, Ten flashed that same sweet smile that pulled Taeyong out of his head days ago. It never seemed malicious, but Taeyong’s eyes fell to Jaehyun’s outfit. It looked great on Ten’s body. He wanted to throw up. 

But he wouldn’t. There was nothing he could do now that Ten had walked. Taeyong gave himself a once over. This _was_ his. All his. And he’d work it on the runway with everything he had.

On his first step out bright lights washed over every inch of him. On his second he tilted his chin up, head held high. He walked, slow, steady, and ready, down the smooth white runway, letting the glitter on his eyes and around his waist do all the work for him, glistening like dark diamonds. _Sex up. Sex up,_ was all he was thinking about, growing closer and closer to the judges at the end of the stage. _Make this count._

Pose one: Taeyong shot his hands out to his side, hip cocked to highlight the chiffon puff of his sleeves and the bows at his sides.

Pose two: His arms extended above his head slowly, letting the black lace over his chest grow more and more taught until it clung to him like a second skin.

Pose three: He stepped his right foot out to his side to show the thinness of his heel, melting his body forward until he was all but bent in half. His palm fell onto the toe of his boot, fingers dragging slowly and sensual up his leg, over his exposed thigh, until his body had almost completely rolled up again. Then he turned sharply, arching his back to show off the bow. He even dared to glance back at the judges, giving a cheeky half gasp before strutting his way to the back. 

He spun once more as the following model took their turn down the walkway and gave a final pose: legs shoulder width apart, one hand at his hip above his cage and the other resting palm up near his head. Jisung told him to countdown from ten and leave at the end so Taeyong worked hard to keep his face looking chic and sultry while his mind filled with nothing but _ten… nine… eight…_ Oh no, he forgot to wink at his Caterpillar and Co. crew. 

He hit one and nearly tripped down the stairs as he left. Fortunately, no one in the audience and none of the judges could see him here. Taeyong only made a fool of himself in front of the other models and the show runners. He was more than okay with that.

Taeyong’s heart stayed racing, maybe even outpacing the bass of the music that filled the convention hall, all the way through the rest of the model’s walking to when they were called out for the final scoring. He knew he needed to breathe but as each model called out by the names of their design studios he found his air locking up tighter in his chest. He thought it’d be in alphabetical order but “C” came before most of these other places and he was still hanging out in the back. He tried to peek around to get a look of how many more models were waiting on the other side as the wing he was in slowly started to empty. Where was Ten? 

“And finally… Off With Their Designs.”

Oh, there was Ten. Damn… and he looked so good as he strutted towards the front of the stage. 

“Six Impossible Things.”

A model still with Taeyong in the back walked past him and out to join Ten.

“And Caterpillar and Co.”

“What?” 

“Go, go.” The stage hand waved him forward. “And don’t trip this time!”

Damn, now all Taeyong could think about was tripping. He shook that away quickly and made his way out. There was a spot at Ten’s right that he took and when he hit his mark the other man outright beamed at him. 

Taeyong didn’t know what was going on, but he smiled back all the same and did his best to keep his eyes anywhere but Ten’s offending outfit. They turned back towards the judges together. 

Johnny had the mic. “Year after year I swear it gets harder to judge. At this point, we might as well give awards to everyone. I know that would make my job easier.” The crowd chuckled. “No matter, we’ve made our evaluations and are thrilled to announce this year's winners. In third place we have Six Impossible Things.” 

The model at Ten’s left stepped forward and gave a curtsy and a bow. 

Taeyong felt himself go pale. If that was third place then….

“I don’t believe we’ve ever been so neck in neck for our first place. Wouldn’t you agree?” Johnny’s contemporaries nodded. The one at his side, editor of the most prestigious fashion magazine and former global superstar Irene Bae took the mic and agreed before giving a little speech about what details set their winner apart from the rest. “I’ll leave it to you Johnny. Why don’t you end the suspense and let us know our WWFS star.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, and everyone both and in between, I present to you our first place designer: Caterpillar and Co.” 

Taeyong jolted. A hand twitched at his side, desperate to point at himself and seek confirmation. He wouldn’t be so obvious, and definitely wouldn’t embarrass his company (and himself) now. But it wasn’t until Ten beamed over to him and jerked his head once that he finally stepped forward to receive his flowers and sash. “Thank you,” he whispered to the judges one by one until he got to Johnny. Taeyong swallowed hard. He knew his eyes weren’t strong enough to hold back his shock and gratitude. That must have made Johnny chuckle because he lifted a gloved hand to cover his lips and his eyes turned to crescents. 

Johnny spoke first, offering his hand. “Good work.”

“Thank you.” Taeyong’s voice barely registered in his own head but somehow Johnny heard him. 

“That was all you, my friend. Now go celebrate.”

He stepped to the side, clearing the last little bit of the runway for Taeyong to walk. With careful steps and held breath, Taeyong smiled and waved at the crowd. He knew exactly where Jaehyun and Sicheng were, but he knew if he looked at them he’d burst into happy tears. _Not now,_ he chided himself. Though he did manage at the last second, after all the other models had made their way off of the stage and Taeyong was preparing for his final steps, to turn back. And this time, he remembered to wink. 

After that he all but ran away.

Ten was at the bottom of the stairs and greeted him with open arms. “Taeyong! Look at you!” He maneuvered himself enough to manage a hug without squishing Taeyong’s bouquet. “How do you feel?”

“It’s… I can’t put it into words.” Taeyong was still breathless-- though maybe that was because he was holding air in his chest for what felt like the last ten minutes. “I… I want to thank you Ten but first…” He took a small step back and nodded towards Ten’s clothes. “You’re in my outfit.”

“What?” Ten’s face fell from smiles to serious in an instant. “What do you mean?”

“That’s what I was supposed to wear-- here.” Taeyong walked around to Ten’s side and took his arm gingerly. On the inside of the left sleeve was Jaehyun’s moniker, a black tag with a golden top hat. He twisted the fabric to show it to Ten. “See?”

And Ten’s jaw dropped. “S-sorry. Taeyong. I swear, I had no idea. I…” He glanced over his shoulder. No one was around, but Ten still took a step away. “I need to speak to someone. Let’s meet at Yuta’s!” 

He was gone before Taeyong could try to stop him. Taeyong thought about taking a step after him, even moved his boot a little bit, and then he realized it just didn’t matter anymore. He still trusted Ten despite everything, so he’d leave this in Ten’s hands. Taeyong needed to find Jaehyun and Sicheng anyway.

They greeted him in his dressing room. Well, greeted was a nicer word for it-- Jaehyun almost tackled him to the ground with the force of his hug. Taeyong thought Sicheng would stop him, but instead he joined in until the cage at Taeyong’s back started to crush in between the wall and his weight. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait!” 

They freed him, but they didn’t let him go. They wouldn’t. They couldn't! When they took a step back Sicheng held his free hand and Jaehyun had a nice grip on Taeyong’s shoulder. Then he moved his hand to cup Taeyong’s cheek.

“Congratulations.” Jaehyun’s voice strained, clearly trying to hold back his tears. He smiled so wide that his dimples poked deeper than Taeyong had ever seen them before. He did his best to match it while Jaehyun asked, “How do you feel?”

“Honestly? I have no idea,” Taeyong exhaled a few small laughs. “It’s too good to be true. Am I dreaming?” He yelped, Sicheng pinching him with a devilish chuckle.

“Seems like you’re not. But uhm.” Sicheng’s hand traveled over the chiffon wrapping around Taeyong’s arm to the gritty glitter of the cage. “What happened?”

Taeyong gave a one shoulder shrug. “I came back from hair and makeup and Jaehyun’s outfit was gone. I… didn’t really know what to do. We--Jisung and I--thought about going after it but we worried about the time. I still had this. I hope you’re not upset…”

“If I was upset, it wouldn’t be with you to celebrate right now,” Jaehyun interjected. “Well, I guess maybe I am a little bit because I worked hard on that look but clearly, between the two of us, you had the better design.”

Taeyong’s cheeks flushed. “N-no, I wouldn’t say that. I don’t think it’s like that.”

“No?” Jaehyun smirked and raised a brow. “That’s not what the judges panel thought.” 

“I--.. uh, I mean… I guess--... I... “ Taeyong heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’ll take your praise _I guess._ ”

“There’s a lot we’ll probably need to sort out in the next few days,” Sicheng added in, taking a slow look from Taeyong, to Jaehyun’s still empty mannequin, and then to the Mad Hatter himself. “But for now, all we should do is celebrate. Sounds good?”

Jaehyun nodded. “Sounds great. Taeyong, do you need help getting changed?” 

“Maybe a bit.” 

Sicheng was already taking the flowers from Taeyong’s arms and offering a hand for his sash. Taeyong slipped his arm out from underneath it and started to pull it over his head when a knock brought them all to a halt. 

“Oh, I hope I’m not too late,” a voice murmured on the other side. 

Jaehyun’s brow rose and Sicheng’s furrowed. “Oh goodness.” the March Hare huffed under his breath, taking it upon himself to open the door. “Can we help you?”

“March Hare? Ah, I guess I should’ve assumed you’d be here, hm?”

“Don’t you ‘hm?’ me. What do you want?”

“To see Lee Taeyong of course.”

Amidst his own name, Taeyong also heard the tapping of long fingernails against the placard with his name on it. He pulled away from Jaehyun and took steps towards the door. “For me?”

“Ah… Ah!” Sicheng sighed. “Though it _pains _me to do this… Taeyong.” He pushed the door all the way open. “Meet White Rabbit.”__

__“White Rabbit?” Taeyong’s heart leapt high into his throat. But it wasn’t because of his fashion designing idol so much as it was because of, “...Doyoung?”_ _

__“Doyoung?” Sicheng cocked a brow._ _

__A half-gloved hand pushed through well styled black hair, dark eyes taking Taeyong all the way in. Doyoung smiled. “I had a feeling I’d see you here one day. I just never thought that day would be so soon.”_ _

__Taeyong was trying hard not to let his jaw drop. His mind was too frazzled to form thoughts, let alone words, and he sat in the static of his own head for a moment. He kept looking Doyoung over-- the soft hair, sharp eyes, round face all looked familiar but the rest of him? The fingerless gloves, puffy shirt, tailored pinstripe vest, and skin tight pants tucked into white boots? Taeyong never imagined a day that he’d see Doyoung in such things but then it dawned on him:_ _

__Maybe he should have._ _

__Because it was Doyoung’s sketchbooks that had tugged Taeyong towards the fashion world in the first place; back in the day when Doyoung’s mother would watch them both while Taeyong’s was attending evening classes. And it was Doyoung’s designs that had inspired Taeyong to create his own, passing long nights passing sketches back and forth. White Rabbit’s work had always felt so familiar to him. Who would’ve thought?_ _

__Certainly not Taeyong._ _

__“I should’ve known.” He beamed, bringing his hand to tap away any and all tears before they got too close to damaging his makeup. “No wonder I liked your work so much. But why didn’t you tell me?”_ _

__“Ah…” Doyoung shifted his weight around his feet, muttering something none of them could catch. “Well you know, it’s a pretty close knit industry and I came out of nowhere from a small town. Didn’t want anyone to know of me I guess.”_ _

__“Rude.” Taeyong pouted. He reached out to kick Doyoung’s ankle with the toe of his boot. “I thought we were best friends.”_ _

__“Should we leave you two alone?” Jaehyun asked with a laugh, hoping to cut some of the tension he could feel building between them both. It wasn’t thick or heavy, no note of anger or any real upset, but there was still _something_ there. Something that clearly called out that these two had known each other for a while._ _

__“Why don’t we. Just for a little bit. I have to grab some things from our room anyway.” Sicheng waved Jaehyun towards the door and while they slipped out Doyoung stepped in._ _

__“Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled._ _

__“I’ll look at you how I want to! You’re my idol-- Er, I mean, my friend. I can do what I want!” Taeyong was getting huffy, crossing his arms over his chest with his bottom lip jutting out._ _

__Watching him, Doyoung’s eyes fill with mirth. He tilted his head. “I’m your idol?” He leaned in. “Tell me more.”_ _

__For as long as Taeyong could remember, Doyoung was just as much his friend as a rival. Even though Taeyong was two years younger, hanging off of Doyoung’s coattails at an early age, when he was old enough to challenge Doyoung he started and never stopped. Whether it be on who can run faster, climb higher, draw better-- Taeyong picked every battle he could. He lost most of them, but none of that mattered. The chase, for him, was better than the catch. Except this time… this catch, this… finally finding the White Rabbit, was truly something else. Taeyong lifted and dropped his shoulders in an exaggerated sigh. “I guess you win.”_ _

__“Me?” Doyoung tch’d, pointing to himself first and then jabbing his finger towards Taeyong. “You’re the one with the sash. The Red Queen may like my work but they’ve never let it walk the show. You make your first official piece and it wins the whole thing. That’s why…” Doyoung’s voice trailed a bit. He wasn’t usually one to falter. Taeyong could count on both hands how many times he’d seen it happen, despite knowing Doyoung to be one big softie inside and out. If his voice ever did break off it usually meant something was up. Something important. “Taeyong?”_ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“Would you want to work with me? I’ve been wanting to expand my own brand but I can’t do it alone. If I had you on my team I think we’d be unstoppable.”_ _

__Taeyong’s eyes widened. To work… with White Rabbit… who happened to be his best friend who moved away half-way through university and never came back… Was this a dream? Between this and his fashion show victory he truly needed to pinch himself--which he did--before shaking his head out._ _

__“You really mean that?”_ _

__“Of course!” Doyoung’s voice pitched into a cross between a whiny and seriousness. Taeyong always had a way of pulling an exasperated look to Doyoung’s features and every time he succeeded he couldn’t help but giggle. “I haven’t made this offer to anyone else,” Doyoung continued._ _

__Taeyong closed the last little bits of space between them to take Doyoung’s hand. His fingers were just as long and slender as Taeyong remembered. Really, neither of them had changed _so much._ They’d just grown older. And maybe that was part of it because if this offer had reached him when he was back home, or even within the first few weeks of arriving in the city, Taeyong would have taken it without a thought. But now? He looked up at his friend and smiled._ _

__“I don’t think I can, Doyoung.” Knowing Doyoung’s tendency to deflate when faced with rejection, Taeyong quickly squeezed their hands and moved one up over Doyoung’s arms and to his shoulder. That didn’t feel right… He cupped Doyoung’s cheek instead and was thrilled when he didn’t pull away. “Not because I don’t want to work with you. I mean… Even if it’s _you,_ you’re still my idol. It’d be a dream to work with you.”_ _

__“But,” Doyoung supplemented, anticipating it on Taeyong’s tongue._ _

__“But it’d be an even bigger, better dream to beat you. I mean, truthfully, Caterpillar and Co. are the ones that even got me to this point so I wouldn’t feel right leaving them either. But if it means that we can actually go against each other I don’t want to pass that up.” Taeyong took a pause, pink tongue dragging across his glitter-glossed bottom lip and their hands pressing tightly to one another again. He let out a light laugh before bringing their eyes to meet again. “Just for now, at least.”_ _

__From the way Doyoung’s nose scrunched and his brows quirked, Taeyong could tell he was letting those words settle in his ears before making his reply. He held his breath in anticipation. But when Doyoung smiled he let everything go and smiled back at him. “Just like you, Taeyong. Well then, I’ll have to start working ten times as hard if you’re my competitor. You better watch out, okay?”_ _

__They pulled away from one another slowly. “I believe there’s a smaller show in a few months. I’ll see you there?”_ _

__Taeyong gave a firm nod. “You bet. Oh, and hey! There’s a party tonight.” He scrambled around for a piece of paper and a pen and scrawled out the address of Yuta’s bar. “Come by if you can.”_ _

__No sooner did Doyoung leave Taeyong’s dressing room than Sicheng and Jaehyun were shuffling in and wrapping their arms around him again. They didn’t say anything of it, but something--a similar feeling to when Sicheng poked around the corner of Caterpillar and Co. after Taeyong had finished phoning Johnny--told him they’d heard a bit of his exchange with Doyoung. At the very least the last part. And they were grateful he was going to stay._ _

__“Can I change now?” Taeyong whined when they pulled away, shimmying his shoulders to shake them off. “I need to get out of these heels.”_ _

____

_Coming soon..._

⌜Carry on...⌟  



	12. Finale

Taeyong thought switching back into his white sneakers would be enough to free his feet of their hours worth of pain but he was quite wrong. Enough that, after a car ride’s worth of whining, he convinced Jaehyun to carry him on his back down the cobblestone path to Kitten’s Grin. 

Donghyuck and Mark were bickering by the door, looking just as dapper as they did uncomfortable in their contrasting pinstripe suits-- Donghyuck in white and Mark in black. Donghyuck kept smacking at Mark’s hat, trying to knock it over until he noticed the small crowd coming closer. Mark glared as Donghyuck’s demeanor flipped 180 degrees into a soft smile and a deep, regal bow. As he straightened he asked with the proudest smile, “How do I look?”

“You _both_ look great,” Sicheng returned.

“C’mon you can be honest. I’m clearly pulling it off better.”

Mark raised a hand and swiped Donghyuck’s tophat clear off his head with one hit. It flew straight into Jaehyun’s chest, who somehow managed to catch it and not drop Taeyong all at once. 

“Mark!” Donghyuck put 100 times his usual extraness into his gasp. “You can’t hurt our VIPs like this!”

Something clicked in the blonde’s face and Mark finally opted to ignore Donghyuck completely in favor of welcoming the Caterpillar and Co. crew. “So how’d it go?”

“Great.” Jaehyun grinned. He adjusted his hold on Taeyong, tossing him up into the air a bit to help him resettle on Jaehyun’s back. “You’re in the presence of a winner!”

“Wow!” Mark clapped excitedly. “Congrats! Yuta’s going to be so thrilled.”

“Speaking of.” Donghyuck reached across the span of the red curtain and drew it back. “If he knows that we kept you out here and away from him he might fire us. Go go go.” 

In the seconds it took for their eyes to adjust from the lingering sunset into the dark ambiance of the bar, Jaehyun set Taeyong down “If I carry you down the stairs I’ll most definitely drop you.”

Taeyong let out a sound of protest low in his throat. Jaehyun was right, though. And if Taeyong was going to black out tonight he wanted it to be from drinking too much, _not_ earning a concussion from the stairwell. Goodness his feet _hurt_ though. Even one step had them protesting against him and he found himself leaning more and more against the railing as they descended, as if that would help. Sicheng stayed at his side, laughing a little bit at Taeyong’s expense, and sending him encouraging words at each step. 

“Almost there,” he whispered. “Almost. Five more.”

Taeyong let out a loud huff when they reached the landing and groaned when there was still a hallway and the matter of even finding them seats. He flopped against Sicheng this time and whined. 

But Taeyong’s attention didn’t linger long on his pain. In fact, as soon as they turned towards the bar every other thought in his head vanished to make space for how Yuta had redecorated the whole place. He didn’t know where to begin but his own name in shining letters hung across a banner was probably the right place to start. ‘Congratulations’ was painted across the top. “How did he know?”

“Know what?” Yuta popped up cheerily behind them all. “Oh this? Outcome never mattered. You did something amazing and I wanted to congratulate you for it.” He shrugged and brought both hands onto Taeyong’s shoulders, looking back and forth expectantly at Sicheng, Jaehyun, and Taeyong. “So?”

Taeyong reached into his bag carefully, nudging his notebook aside to pull out his sash. He unfurled it slowly before all of their eyes.

“Yes!” Yuta howled. “ _Yabai_!” His arms slipped around Taeyong’s torso and he held him tight. “I knew it! I knew it. What did I say? Huh? Huh?”

“God, you’re so annoying.” Sicheng groaned. Long fingers found Taeyong’s wrist to tug him out of Yuta’s arms and closer to himself. “You did nothing. I’m the one who found him.” 

“You can’t say I did _nothing!_ ” Yuta whined.

Jaehyun cut in before the bickering bubbling up in both of them could explode with a quick, soft, but poignant, “It was _Taeyong_ who won the whole thing. So let’s celebrate that, shall we?”

Yuta flipped like a switch, suddenly gathering Taeyong and Sicheng’s hands into his own. “You’re right!” With quick steps he led them all the way up to the bar. “I have a whole menu for tonight. A ‘Fashion Week’ menu,” he dragged a white laminate over towards them, letting one hand go. “And a ‘Taeyong’ menu!” He pulled a blue laminate up next to it. 

“What’s on a ‘me menu’…” Taeyong whispered. As soon as they reached the mushroom stools Taeyong took his seat and elevated his feet, weight poured over the bar. His fingers played with the edges of the freshly printed menu, eyes scanning over all the sugary drinks. Every one that Yuta had Taeyong tasting over the last few weeks was here and then some. 

Jaehyun took the seat next to Taeyong and snagged the other special menu. “I hope this means you brought back my favorite drink,” he let out, shifting the menu to rest between him and Sicheng as his assistant also pulled up a seat. “See anything you like? First round’s on me.”

But Yuta already had a deep red drink rimmed with maraschino cherries and speckled with dark flecks at the ready that he placed next to Jaehyun’s hand. “Already ready for you. And the first round’s on _me,_ excuse you.”

“Ah, of course,” Unlike Sicheng, Jaehyun knew not to contest Yuta, especially when he was offering free things. He tipped the drink in Yuta’s way with a soft ‘thanks’ before taking a long sip. 

“What is that?” Taeyong leaned over, taking the straw between his still shining lips when Jaehyun offered it. “Ugh.” He shivered and reeled back. “What _is_ that?”

“Sour cherry and black pepper,” Jaehyun explained, drinking again. “And a lot of vodka.”

“That’s going to knock Taeyong out in three sips.” Yuta laughed and shook his head, watching the blue haired boy in question bring a hand to his temple and stare wide eyed at the bar. “It’s already starting.”

“It’s not!” Taeyong protested. “But… I need to eat.” He looked to Jaehyun and Sicheng. “Can we eat?”

A spread of fried chicken and cheese topped treats eventually filled up their small section of the counter and Taeyong was quick to dive in, finishing a plate and a half’s worth before Yuta even turned around with Taeyong’s drink. 

“Do you starve your models?” Yuta asked with hysterically large eyes, looking pointedly at Sicheng. In return, Sicheng’s nostrils flared but any words boiling up in his brain he kept to himself. Instead he grabbed another chicken leg and beckoned Taeyong closer, leaning over Jaehyun, to take a bite, watching with a smirk as Yuta’s smug expression fell apart. “H-Hey, I want to feed Taeyong too! Come here, Taeyong.”

Trying not to choke as he simultaneously chewed and giggled and shifted his feet off the stool and back underneath him, Taeyong lifted a hand to hide his mouth until he could swallow and be ready for yet another piece of chicken now held in Yuta’s hands. He pressed his hands over the rail of the bar and used that to hoist his weight up and his body closer to Yuta. He took another small bite and settled back, now pulling his drink closer to him. A whole slice of roll cake rested on the rim of frosty glass and he shook his head in awe, plucking it off to eat next.

“Would you believe me if I told you I baked it myself?”

“No,” Sicheng, Jaehyun, _and_ Taeyong returned in unison. 

“My pride… How you all wound me.”

While Taeyong continued to stuff his face, Jaehyun and Sicheng went on to tell Yuta about the whole day’s events. The bartender’s already large eyes grew wider and wider at each detail. “Really?” He gaped, pointing loosely to Jaehyun. “Your design? On someone else? How does that even happen!”

“It was Ten too,” Taeyong whispered around his cake, eyes trailing away for just a moment. Having his intended outfit go missing was one thing but seeing it on Ten’s body felt like a particular betrayal that Taeyong had yet to unpack. He felt so… sad. Sad and yet like something was missing too. When he asked Ten… when he saw that response… Taeyong’s nose scrunched in frustration because he still trusted him. Of course he did. But Jaehyun’s hand patting his shoulder pulled him right out of it. 

“Who knows how it happened,” he said in a voice so calm it surprised Taeyong a bit. “But we got to see something even better walk that runway so what’s it matter, right? And.” He tilted his head towards Taeyong and smiled. “We get to see more, right? Because you’ll be joining our collective.”

“Yeah.” Taeyong nodded quite quickly. “Just need to… ya know, find an apartment, go home, get my stuff, move up here.” Oh God, his heart was racing at the thought already. 

Yuta chuckled. “One thing at a time. Like your drink melting. Finish that up first so I can make you another one.” 

More people, fashionistas and fashion show attendees and the like, started to pour into the bar, taking Yuta from them for some time. 

“It’s too bad there’s not a show tonight,” Taeyong mused. At some point in the last ten minutes he’d slumped against Jaehyun, his hands cradling his second drink.

“Do you want to compete again? Are you addicted?” Taeyong could feel the joy rumbling in Jaehyun’s chest all the way up through Taeyong’s own body when he answered. He smiled, himself, and shook his head. 

“It would be nice to watch something,” Sicheng agreed. 

Jaehyun turned his head to glance back. “Is that your way of saying you’re tired of my company already.”

“Maybe a little.” Sicheng tugged playfully on the back of Jaehyun’s collar. 

Actually, though, Taeyong was already wanting to walk in a show again. The pressure of WWFS was off his shoulders and he could finally think of the whole thing as fun. His dream had always been to bring designs to life but now _he_ could be the one doing that in all ways; just like today. And he wanted to win again, too. He wanted that adrenaline rush, that sense of pride and reward. Just… maybe not so soon in those heels. Dwelling on those thoughts brought Taeyong to the bottom of his drink and he returned it to the bar top with a bit of a shiver. Naturally, to counteract it he turned and pressed a bit tighter to Jaehyun. How sleepy he was starting to feel… 

“I-is,” a man suddenly behind them cleared his throat. “Is this seat taken? I’m not too late, am I?”

Taeyong blinked his eyes open and let them go wide. He sat up immediately--maybe a little too quickly because he gave himself a headrush, but none of that mattered. “Doyoung? You came?”

“Well, you invited me didn’t you?” Doyoung looked exceedingly uncomfortable, inching more and more towards the bar and towards Taeyong even though there weren’t that many people around him. He slotted onto the mushroom after Taeyong waved his hand towards it and was quick to shrug his black leather jacket off his shoulders. Compared to the rest of them, Doyoung was decidedly underdressed. But this was the Doyoung Taeyong was most familiar with, so he didn’t mind it at all. Black v-neck t-shirt, dark and ripped jeans, a jacket on his back and a mask over his mouth (well, tugged down to his chin now but still)-- this was Taeyong’s childhood best friend.

Doyoung waved Yuta over to order. “I’ll buy his drink!” Taeyong cut in, earning him a look from all the boys around him. “I invited you, didn’t I?” He smiled, nudging Doyoung’s shoulder with his own. Of course, no one was going to let Taeyong pay that night and they all exchanged knowing glances around the two of them before Yuta started on making it. 

Taeyong didn’t realize that Jaehyun had slipped away to give the two of them a little more space. He also didn’t notice how Sicheng kept sending pointed looks periodically in Doyoung’s direction or that Yuta was poking fun at him for it. He was a little too preoccupied-- or maybe enthralled. Doyoung, the White Rabbit, who came to what was essentially Taeyong’s victory party. He must have been staring because the second Doyoung’s drink was in his hand he raised it with a quirked brow and asked, “Cheers?” to cut through some of the awkward. 

“Oh!” Taeyong grabbed his empty glass and tapped it with Doyoung’s, prompting a laugh.

“Maybe _you_ need someone to buy you a drink.” Doyoung smirked and took a long sip. 

“Maybe I do,” Ah, but Yuta had him already with a glass of water. (“Finish that first,” he whispered, “Then I’ll get you another one.”)

More and more bodies were filling up the space around them, wiggling between chairs to order drinks and the like, but somehow, as he continued to stare at Doyoung, it felt like just the two of them. “So how have you been?” Taeyong asked softly, turning until he could rest his feel against the stalk of Doyoung’s stool. He kept the water in one hand and rested his weight on his elbow as he leaded to the bar. “It’s been a while since we’ve last talked, huh?”

“It has been.” Doyoung grimaced at himself and looked up at the ceiling for half a second. His eyes met Taeyong’s again. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” Taeyong shrugged. “I think a few years ago I was upset but it’s been enough time. Now that I know what you’ve been doing it makes a lot of sense anyway. Looks like things are going great for you.”

“There are ups and downs. But I’m grateful for what I’ve been able to do. I’m grateful I get to see you again, too. I knew you’d make it into fashion eventually.”

“That’s kind of you to say. You wouldn’t know this, though. I tried to enter into your competition.”

“Oh?” Doyoung quirked a brow.

“Yeah but I missed the deadline by a day. I stayed up for almost a whole week trying to finish.”

“That’s basically a competition for kids, Taeyong.”

“Hey.” Taeyong pouted. “I had to take all the shots I could. I wanted to be like you and I didn’t even know it was you! Actually.” He took a glance over his shoulder to where Sicheng and Jaehyun were chatting. “That’s where Sicheng discovered me. I was looking at your collection on Fashion Ave when he drove by. In a way, I really owe this all to you.”

“Nah.”

Taeyong straightened, clearly taken aback no matter how much he wanted to keep his face looking more neutral. 

Doyoung kept on shaking his head. “It’s always been _you._ ” He poked a finger into Taeyong’s chest. “You’ve always made great designs. You’ve always worked hard for what you want. You’re the one who made the outfit that won the show today. Maybe the White Rabbit inspired you and the March Hare found you and the Mad Hatter gave you the job but you made your path. It was always Alice’s adventure, she just makes friends along the way.”

Taeyong sat back and as he moved Doyoung followed him, slipping his fingers into blue hair and getting caught on remnants of gel and spray. His smile was as kind as it was smug, conveying a very easy ‘I know I’m right’ without saying the words at all. And he was-- though Taeyong wouldn’t be himself if he gave in so easily to praise like that. But… the thought was nice. Or, rather, the reality that he accomplished his own dreams was nice. He matched Doyoung’s smile with his own and dared to reach for the hand on his head. He gathered Doyoung’s fingers up and brought his palm towards his lips, pressing a soft kiss against warm skin. When he glanced back he felt thrilled to see such a nice shade of pink gracing Doyoung’s cheeks. 

“I know the fashion world is close knit but it seems a little crazy how well a newcomer like Taeyong has collected this city’s top players.”

Taeyong blinked up (and then up a little bit more) to see a casually clad Johnny hovering near their small group. He pulled his sunglasses from his face and cocked his head a bit to the side. “Mind if I join you?”

Taeyong shrugged and shook his head, glancing at Sicheng and Jaehyun--and he guessed he should look at Doyoung too--for a final verdict. Sicheng made a face but shifted off of his seat and onto another with a wave from Jaehyun’s hand. Jaehyun then tapped the newly freed spot and Johnny took his seat. Yuta, from across the bar, looked just as skeptical as Sicheng and sent Jaemin to take Johnny’s first order. He busied himself with a group of sweet lolita-wearing-girls that had just stepped in but Taeyong could tell from how his spine went ramrod straight that he didn’t want to deal with their new guest so soon. 

Did he feel guilty about that? A little. But Jaehyun was the one who both agreed and was now keeping him occupied with random chatter. Taeyong _did_ crane his neck a bit to catch their topic of conversation. Johnny was talking about silhouette shapes so Taeyong figured he was giving feedback from the show.

“I like what you did this time. It was a very interesting mix of modern style and an alternative take on classic techniques. What inspired you?”

“Well, that depends.,” Jaehyun took a slow sip of his drink and popped one of the cherries from the rim and into his mouth. He chewed slowly and in that time shot Taeyong a look--oops, he was caught!--over Johnny’s shoulder for permission to continue. Taeyong nodded so Jaehyun said, “Do you mean the outfit that was on Taeyong’s body… or Ten’s?”

Johnny paused, glass poised at his lips. Taeyong started to peer around to see his expression in full but Doyoung snatched him back. “You’re a fool,” he whispered.

“Am not!” Taeyong whined back.

“I don’t understand,” Johnny replied to Jaehyun. “What?”

“The outfit you saw on Taeyong was Taeyong’s own design. The one I made somehow ended up on Ten.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing happening at any of our shows.”

“I’ve never heard of it happening either but I saw it before my own eyes today. We all did.”

“Uhm… Maybe I can help with that a bit?”

Every head turned. Ten pushed the brim of his beanie up and tugged his mask down from his face. “Sorry if I’m interrupting. I don’t have to. I can just go if it’s easier. I just… overheard, and…” His hands fidgeted behind his back. Taeyong didn’t like that. The covered up look, the soft sound to his voice, those things Taeyong was familiar when it came to Ten. But this uncertainty? It didn’t suit the other model at all. Feeling bold, or maybe just a little too tipsy, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the elbow of Ten’s sleeve. Taeyong tugged gently until Ten’s whole attention shifted over.

“I trust you. I want to hear you out.” 

The rest blinked over at Jaehyun, painting a rainbow of confusion from the quirk in Sicheng’s brow to the questioning tilt of Yuta’s chin once he had returned to them. Taeyong cleared his throat and pressed on. “The Ten I know doesn’t need to steal clothes to do a good job,” he said firmly. Maybe too firmly because it caught even himself off guard and suddenly he was looking at Ten for back up. “Right?”

“It wasn’t me.” Ten covered Taeyong’s hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “I’d never! I did some digging and, well, I guess Knave didn’t finish his piece so he snatched the best one he saw. Which… I mean that means yours, Mr. Hatter, was the best?” Ten’s lips pulled into a line when he realized that didn’t come out as he intended. “I mean… Well, obviously yours was the best,” he turned to Taeyong. 

Taeyong hadn’t been thinking about that, though. He was stuck on ‘Knave.’ “Like… The Knave of Hearts?” The Queen’s first apprentice, who had collections walk runways all over the world. “Him? Really?” 

“It wasn’t right.” Ten’s voice dipped into something low and uncomfortable. “What he did wasn’t right and whether or not The Queen endorsed it I don’t know, but I do know that I’m not going to continue modeling for art thieves.” 

“So you quit?” Sicheng leaned in a little bit and Ten just smiled. 

“I always wanted to be a free agent anyway. You can relate, right Mr. Rabbit?” Ten shot Doyoung a coy look. “Today was your last day too.”

Doyoung cleared his throat. “That it was.” He pushed a hand through his hair, taking those same fingers to wrap around his glass for a long, slow drink. 

“Well if you ever need a model.” Ten all but cooed. Between their bodies, Ten swung his and Taeyong’s arms by their still linked hands. He still seemed a little on edge, but Taeyong already felt far less tension in Ten’s actions. He smiled at that. “I hope you all can forgive me eventually. It’s… embarrassing. I feel like a fool walking in something that wasn’t meant for me.” 

“It’s okay.” Jaehyun stood now and strode across the very small space to Ten’s side. He offered Ten a hand. “It wasn’t your fault. It’s over anyway. Why don’t we let the past be the past?”

As Ten went to shake on it Sicheng also added, “Tonight’s for celebrating. Join us, won’t you?” 

“Can I?”

“Yeah, please!” Taeyong immediately started to look for another stool and when he found none moved to give Ten his.

“Oh no. I’m used to a day in heels. You sit.” Ten’s hands fell onto Taeyong’s shoulders and he pushed him back down again, face alight while Taeyong’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Cute,” Ten cooed. “No wonder.”

 _No wonder?_ Taeyong wanted to ask but no sooner did his lips part had Jaemin come up to the group with a whole platter of shots. Yuta, at his side, started handing them out one by one. He’d hold it up at eye level, squint at the contents, then gave it to someone he decided specifically. Taeyong watched closely-- Sicheng got an orange one, Jaehyun a red one, Johnny was given a rich, deep purple. With his own pink one in his hands, Taeyong clinked it gently with Doyoung’s sky blue shot and Ten’s turquoise one. 

“Wait.” Ten pulled his phone out. “We have the best colors. Let’s clink again!” 

Once he was satisfied with his video Yuta led them all in a quiet toast. Taeyong shivered, tasting sweetness on his tongue and heat dripping down his throat. 

“What is this?” Ten asked across the bar. “Do they all taste different?” 

Yuta raised a brow and shared a kittenish grin. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Ten pouted, picking up Taeyong’s glass. “Do you mind?” Taeyong shook his head ‘no,’ so Ten swiped his tongue all around the rim and deep down to the bottom. “Wow… Magic indeed.” 

Not too long after his sweet pink shot, Taeyong’s vision started to grow fuzzy. His cheeks felt warmer than they had when Jaehyun started playing with his hair--wait, when did that stop?-- and the rest of him shivered pleasantly every so often. He wanted another drink but Yuta cut him off and no amount of pouting or pleading seemed to convince any other men to help him out. And while he couldn’t have anything, he watched Ten down drink after drink in jealous awe.

“No fair.” He leaned forward, hoping to steal even just one sip, when Doyoung’s arms wrapped around his waist and tugged him back.

“Nope.”

Taeyong’s head fell back against Doyoung’s shoulder. Puppy dog eyes glanced over, lips pushed out into a pout. 

Doyoung lifted a hand and pinched Taeyong’s cheek. “That never worked on me before. It’s not going to work now.”

Damn. Doyoung was right. He’d always been immune to Taeyong’s cuteness. He huffed and sat up again. Though he swayed a bit--Doyoung’s hands subtly steadying him as they shifted down to his hips--he managed to focus his eyes just enough to some things in:

Johnny’s arm around Jaehyun as they chatted and shared a straw from the same drink.

Sicheng with half his body on the bar, weight positioned on his elbows as he leaned closer and closer to Yuta. They both smiled at each other, exchanging words that clearly made the other laugh. 

Ten got swept away from their side to take some selfies, smiling and laughing with a group of cutely dressed girls and boys.

And Taeyong had snuggled back up against Doyoung--wait, when did _that_ happen? Well, he wasn’t going to move away now. 

“Is it time for you to go home?” Doyoung whispered, voice soft and breath warm against his skin, sending shivers through Taeyong’s spine. “You look ready to fall asleep in my arms.”

“That’s ‘cause it's in your arms,” Taeyong slurred and snuggled closer. 

“Is that the only reason?” Doyoung trailed his fingers over Taeyong’s arm and to his cheek, gauging how hot his skin had become with the back of his hand. “I think you’re drunk, Taeyong.”

Taeyong hummed. “Mmm...Maybe.” 

“Let’s go home.” Doyoung propped Taeyong’s body up against his chest and slid off of his own stool to guide Taeyong down from his own. “Say goodbye.” 

Ten scrambled back to give Taeyong a quick hug and another “Congratulations!” 

Jaehyun peeled away from Johnny to also share in a hug. His fingers worked their way into Taeyong’s hair, carding through the strands carefully, and he whispered “I’m proud of you,” just a touch louder than the hammering of Taeyong’s heart in his chest. 

Sicheng poked his head over, rooted to his seat by fingers linked with Yuta’s. “Taeyong, do you need help getting home?”

“No.” Taeyong shook his head out so quickly that it nearly knocked him off balance. Doyoung was there to steady him.

“I’ve got him, Sicheng. I’ll make sure he gets home safely.”

Sicheng’s brows knit but the way Taeyong so readily pressed himself back into Doyoung’s side kept him from saying anything more.

“Have him text one of us when you’re back, okay?”

“Okay,” Taeyong chirped back, tugging the corners of Doyoung’s lips. Doyoung took Taeyong’s hand gingerly into his own and started to navigate them through the sea of bodies all around them. He caught his breath once they crossed the threshold and broke free from the crowds. “Wait Doyoung,” he tugged him back. His other hand fumbled with getting his phone out of his pocket. “I want a picture with…” His words failed him so he pointed up at the sign until Doyoung understood. He took Taeyong’s phone and a few steps back, calling out pose directions until Taeyong interrupted him with a whine. “I just won the show! You can’t tell me how to model!” He didn’t stay mad for long. And once Doyoung returned to give his phone back, Taeyong tugged him to his side for a few selfies. Another party goer offered to take a picture for them. Counting down, Taeyong shifted between poses until their photographer called “one” and he made up his mind. Just as the flash went off Taeyong pressed his lips to Doyoung’s cheek .

“Sorry,” he said rather bashfully, phone back at his side. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Doyoung took Taeyong’s hand again. 

“Yeah?” Taeyong blinked up.

“Yeah.” 

The look on Doyoung’s face told Taeyong everything else he could want; the softness in his eyes, the gentleness in his smile. Taeyong worried he’d crossed a line but Doyoung didn’t seem to be bothered. Actually, when they started to pass the lamps on the walls while heading upstairs, Taeyong even felt like he saw Doyoung blushing. That would be pretty nice if it were true. 

The cool night air was a welcome reprieve. Taeyong hadn’t realized how hot the bar had been until his sweat started cooling (maybe freezing) against his skin. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes for one moment then looking up at the strings of lights above them in the next. It all felt so magical--this night, this whole trip, this moment right now. Ahead of him, things were hopeful and scary. A whole new life. A whole move. How he’d explain this to his family and his old boss he had no idea but… Taeyong opened his eyes and took the outside of the bar in. This was where he wanted to be. This crazy, whirlwind city that made his dreams come true in all the weirdest ways possible.

Taeyong had fallen down a rabbit hole and he didn’t want to leave.

And there were bits of home here too, weren’t there? His attention turned back to Doyoung to thank him for coming, for taking care of him, for being the reason he bought those bus tickets in the first place.

Doyoung looked right back at him and asked, “Do you want to come back home with me tonight?”

Taeyong gasped before he realized it, free hand coming to cover his lips before he got too slack-jawed in his shock. “Do I…” He blinked. Then nodded. Then paused. Then finally let himself process the words still ringing in his ears. “Yeah.” He squeezed their still held hands. “Yeah, I’d love to.” 

Doyoung’s gums flashed when he smiled. He took a step on the uneven path, then another, and then somehow, Taeyong found himself running at his best friend’s side towards the street. “Let’s go.”

_-The End-_

**Author's Note:**

> 🐇 Pairing guide 🐇
> 
> part one: Sicheng x Taeyong  
> part two: Jaehyun x Taeyong  
> part three: Yuta x Taeyong  
> part four: Johnny x Taeyong  
> part five: Ten & Taeyong  
> part six: Finale
> 
> let's chat on Twitter [@ChibiKadaj](https://www.twitter.com/ChibiKadaj) and cc [@ChibixKadaj!](https://curiouscat.me/ChibixKadaj) ♡


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